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"  Then  the  light  began  to  fade  and 
the  whole  porch  was  filled  with  mar- 
vellous, mysterious  shadows." 

Le  Puy. 


CA  THEDRALS 
and  CLOISTERS 

OF 

MIDLAND    F  R  A  N  C  E 


BY 

ELISE     WHITLOCK     ROSE 


With  illustrations  from  original  photographs 
BY 

VIDA  HUNT  FRANCIS 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOLUME  IL 


G.   P.   PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW    YORK  AND   LONDON 

^be  IRnickerbocIier  preea 
1907 


Copyright,  igo7 

by 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Tlbc  Vtnicbcrboclicc  prcM,  'Rcw  t?ocli 


)y  ^.  h,  V    J  ^''•V/Oo/  Urban  PlawitoB 


^^4^^ 


Ubrary 

K\0'| 

•  v.y- 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


AuvERGNE  (Continued) 3 

Aquitaine 81 

Index 365 


m 


•A«  Mi»i9 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 


LePuy        .  .  .  .  .  .      Frontispiece 

"Then  the  light  began  to  fade,  and  the  whole  porch 
was  filled  with  marvellous,  mysterious  shadows." 
Lace-making,  the  "business"  in  the  village  near  Le 

PuY      .........       iS 

"'The  basin  with  its  group  of  rocky  pinnacles  is  no 

less  STRANGELY  beautiful' " Le  Puy      .  .  .21 

"Saint  Michael's  Mount  with  its  tiny  brown  church 

AND  THE  FINE  NEEDLE  OF  ITS  TOWER  " Le  Puy  .  24 

In  the  town  of  Espaly        ......       25 

"A  steep,  hilly  street,  WITH  innumerable  stone  steps 

ON  EITHER  side" — Le  PtiJ  .....  27 

"Here   was   the   true,    old    fortress   church,    dark, 

heavy,  AND  massive" — Le  Puy        ....        29 

The  Bishop  of  Le  Puy  ......       32 

"The  spell  of  the  noonday  silence  and  solitude  was 

ON  it" — Le  Puy     .......       33 

Looking  down  at  the  Cathedral  "  from  the  heights  of 

Notre-Dame  DE  France" — Le  Puy  •  •  •        35 

"For  THOSE  brief  moments  the  setting  sun 

illumined  transplendently  the  art  of  the  build- 
ers of  Auvergne" — Le  Puy  ....        39 

"It  is  more  than  a  portal,  it  is  a  porch" — Le  Puy     .       41 
"Looking  out  over  a  sunlit  land  and  across  the  city's 

ROOFS  TO  the  hills  OF  Auvergne  " — Le  Puy    .  .       43 

"A  SOUL  IN  PURGATORY  EARNESTLY  IMPLORING  THE  AID  OF 

THE  Virgin  and  Child" — Le  Puy    ....        46 


vi  Illustrations. 

PAGE 

"Its  finely  cut  axd  chiselled  shafts;  .  its 

strength  of  form  and  exquisite  yet  vigorous 
details" — Le  Puy  ......        47 

"Toward  Poligxac  where  the   faint  outlines  of  a 

castle  rose  like  a  warning  phantom" — le  puy  5  i 

"The  WALK,  SUGGESTIVE  OF  THE  AUSTERITIES 

OF  THE  RELIGIOUS  life" — Le  Puy    ....        53 
The  Cloister  of  the  Palace  of  "Monseigneur  of  Le 

Puy" 54 

The  Mount  Anis  -55 

"On  the   banks  of  the   river  are   seen  the   smoke- 
stained  WALLS  of  the  Cathedral  of  Saint-Jean- 
Baptiste" — Lyons  ......        59 

"  This  facade  is  heavy  and  broad  with  three  large  por- 
tals and  a  pointed,  terminating  gable" — Lyons   .       69 
The  beautiful  windows   and   arcades  of   the    tran- 
sept— Lyons  .  .74 
"The  Cathedral  has  the  stately ecclesiasticism  which 

WAS  AN  IDEAL  OF  THE  MiDDLE  AgES  " — LyOHS     .  75 

Perigueux         ......  Facing       8i 

"  What  must  have  been  the  effect  of  this  glorious  white 

church  upon  the  mediaeval  beholder  who  saw  it  rise  above 

the  Isle  with  its  one,  exquisite  tower,  its  great  cupolas, 

and  its  delicate,  little  minarets?" 

"The  nave   of  the   newly  constituted  Cathedral" — 

Moulins         ........        83 

"The  Pavillionof  Madame  Anne  de  Beaujeu  " — Moulins      86 

"The  Cathedral  stands  .      .     near  many  quaint, 

OLD  houses" — Moulins  .  .  .87 

"It  is  not  only  in  colour  but  in  height  and  general 
proportion  that  this  old  apse  forms  a  great  con- 
TRAST TO  THE  NEWER  NAVE  " — Moulins      ...         89 

"Lights  and  shadows,  colour,  form,  and  proportion, 

ALL  ARE  exquisitely  BLENDED      IN     THIS      BEAUTIFUL 

choir" — Moulins  .......        93 


Illustrations.  vii 


PAGE 


Saint  Peter,  the  Patron  of  the  Cathedral — Moulins       96 

Tulle  is  "'a  very  pretty  city;  the  valley  in  which 

it  is   situated   is      .      .      .      charming '  "        .  .99 

"The  new  Cathedral,  as  the  Pope  had  decreed,  was 
'the  church  of  the  monastery  of  the  Order  of 
Saint  Benedict'  " — Tulle       .....      loi 

The   "porch     .      .      .     is   a   fine   and   dignified   old 

structure" — Tulle         ......      103 

"One  beautiful  corner  remains,  the  Cathedral- 
cloister,  hidden  behind  .  .  .  HIGH  HOUSES " 
— Tulle  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .107 

"A  LARGE  BAY,  ENCLOSING  AN  OVAL    CEIL-DE-BOEUF    ABOVE 

TWO  SMALL  TWIN  arches" Tulle      ....        109 

"On  the  low  COPING  which  DIVIDES  THIS  CHAMBER  FROM 
THE  ClOISTER-WALK,  IN  SOLEMN  EFFIGY  OF  STONE, 
RESTS  A   FORMER  PRELATE  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  TULLE  "       III 

"The   CENTRAL   HILL-COUNTRY  AND  THE   QUIET,    PLEASANT, 

LITTLE  CITY  OF  Tulle"  .  •      uS 

"In  vivid  mental  picture  he  saw  the  high  towers 

THAT  rose    ABOVE    THE    RIVER    IN    ADDED    DEFENCE" 

Cahors  .  .121 

"The   house   in   which    Henry   IV   rested  after  the 

fighting" — Cahors         .  .  .  .  .  123 

"A   short,   broad,   aisleless   hall,   divided   into  two 

BAYS  OF  generous  size" — Caliors  ....  125 
"The  Cloister  doorway" — Cahors        .  .  .  .129 

"The  sunny  old  age  of  the  Cloister" — Cahors     .  .      130 

"A  WALL  OF  THE  XIV  century  which  .  .  .  '  TAKES 
a  form  SOMETIMES  SEEN  IN  NORTH  GERMANY,  BUT 
THAT  SEEMS  STRANGELY  OUT  OF  PLACE  WHEN  ATTACHED 
TO  A  DOMICAL  CHURCH    IN   bUUTHERX  GaUL  '  " CohorS       13I 

"The     FINEST     DOOR     OF    THE     CATHEDRAL    IS    THE     NORTH 

PORTAL  OF  THE  XII  CENTURY" CahorS      .  .  .        134 

"The  CHARM  OF  THE  Cloister "- — Cahors  .  .  .      135 

"A  TOWER  in   whose    WIDE   OPENING  MALEFACTORS  SWUNG 

IN  WARNING  TO  others" Cohors      ....        I39 


viii  Illustrations. 

PAK  B 

"This      curious,      cone-topped      tower     .     .     .     was 

CALLED   NOT   SO  OFTEN   '  SaINT   BeRNARD's  ToWER'  AS 

THE  'Lantern  of  the  Dead'  " — Sarlat    .         .  .143 

"A  ROOM  OF  SIMPLE,  BROAD  DIGNITY" Sarlat  .  -147 

"Through   narrow   streets  to  the   old   Cathedral" 

Sarlat   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  -152 

"'Monastic  churches  rose  in  dignity  and  sumptuous- 

NESs'" — P^rigueux  .  .  .  .  ,  -153 

A  PRELATE  OF  Saint-Front — Perigueux  .  .  .158 

"For  Saint-Front  rises  near-by  in  lordly  splendour 

AND  is  to-day  the  Cathedral" — Pcrigueux     .  .159 

"The  part  of  the  ruined  arch  which  is  still  plainly 
visible  in  the  front  wall  shows  the  disposition 
OF  the  ancient  edifice" — pcrigueux       .         .  .      162 

"A     QUAINT     AND     VENERABLE       .       .       .       CHURCH " Pert- 

gueux    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .      165 

The  domes  which  "are  as  sensitive  to  wet  on  their 

BACKS  as  ARE  ducklings'" — P^rtgiieux    .  .  168 

"Bishops  of  the  XVII  and  XVIII  centuries,  caring 

LESS  FOR  cloistered  WALKS  THAN  MONKS  OF  PREVIOUS 
ages,    allowed    THE    CLOISTERS  TO    REMAIN  IN  RUIN " 

— Pcrigueux  .  .  .  .  .  .169 

A     "magnificently     severe       .       .       .       BUILDING    MARRED 
BY       THE              .       .       PRESENCE        OF       .       .       .       CHAIRS, 
CHANDELIERS,       .        .        .       OAK  FENCES,  AND 
A        .         .         .        HEAVILY  CARVED  pulpit" PcrtgUeUX     .        171 

A  VISTA  THROUGH  THE  OPENINGS  OF  THE  "SQUARE  PILLARS 
ON  WHICH  THE  GIGANTIC  MASS  OF  THE  EDIFICE  RESTS  " 

— Pcrigueux  .  .  .  .  -175 

"The  SLENDER  WHITE  TOWER  WITH  ITS  STORIES  OF  MANY 
WINDOWS,  ITS  CIRCLE  OF  COLUMNS,  AND  ITS  TALL  CONI- 
CAL roof" — Perigueux    .  .  .  .  .  .181 


Illustrations.  ix 

PAGE 

"The   grandeur   of   its   interior,      .      .      .      imposing 
by  its  vastness,  by  the  immensity  of  its 
lines,  and  by  the  almost  terrible  simplicity  of 
ITS  NUDE  stone" — PcHgueux  ....      185 

The  side   aisle  of   "'a  splendid   Cathedral 

an  immortal    masterpiece    of    christian  art '  " 

Limoges  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .189 

"The  SLENDER  CLUSTERED  COLUMNS,  THE  LARGE  WINDOWS, 
THE  HIGH  ARCHES  OF  THE  NAVE,  THE  NARROWER  ARCHES 
OF  THE  CHOIR  SEEM  TO  HAVE  BEEN  BUILT  WITH  A  SINGLE 

thought" — Limoges        ......      195 

"This  tower  seems  like  the  tall  shaft  of  an  antique 

COLUMN   PLACED   ON   A   GIGANTIC   BLOCK  " LimOges       .        1 98 

"The  tomb   of  a  Bishop,   which     .      .      .      stands  in 

MUTILATED  SPLENDOUR" LimVgeS  .  .  .        IQQ 

"In  the   shady  square  is  a  statue  of  the  wittiest 

AMONG  THEM,  Marguerite  OF  Angouleme"  .      207 

The  Cathedral  from  the   balcony  of  the  Palace  of 

THE  Bishops — Angouleme         .....      209 

A  DOOR  of  THE    "  LATERAL  WALLS        .         .         .        BEAUTIFULLY 

BUT  moderately  decorated" — Angouleme        .  .      215 

"The  DOME-LIKE  LANTERN,  .  .  .  THE  OLD  TOWER  OF 
the  north  transept  .  .  .  AND  THE  WESTERN 
FAfADE  ...  A  MARVEL  OF  LUXURIANT  SCULP- 
TURES"— Angouleme         .  .  .  .  .  .218 

"The  long,  single  nave  has  three  domed  bays,  and 
the  stately  curves  of  the  round  cross  arches 

descend  and  BREAK  THE  FAR-REACHING  PERSPECTIVE  " 

— Angouleme            .          .          .          .          .          .          .  2?i 

"The  church's  rare  ornamentation  and  its  exquisite 

HARMONIES  OF  light" — Angouleme  .  .  .225 

Sculptures  OF  "the  WHITE  CHURCH  of  Angouleme"      .  227 

Jean,  a  lord  of  Angouleme  .....  230 
"The  'raised  stone'  of  the  suburb  of  Saint-Saturnin, 

a  lonely  fallen  dolmen  " — Poitiers        .          .          .  232 


235 


239 


243 


245 


X  Illustrations. 

PAGE 

"The  Baptistery  OF  Saint-Jean" — Poitiers  .  .     234 

"The  facade  which  is  planned  with  the  elaboration 

OF  the  earlier  Gothic,  and  has  all  the  details 

which  the   conventions  of  the   art   demanded" 

— Poitiers       ........ 

"The  sculptures  will  bear  comparison  with  similar 
work  and  similar  subjects  ix  the  portals  of  far 

GREATER  CATHEDRALS  " — PoitierS       .... 

"The    FLOODS    of    light    which    give    a    cold    BARENESS, 

THAT    quality    FOREIGN    TO    THE    GoTHIC    CHURCH " 

Poitiers  ........ 

"Entering  the  door  of  the  low,  broad  facade  one 

COMES      immediately      INTO     A      CLOISTERED      COURT " 

— Lugon  ........ 

"It  IS     .      .      .     A  VAST  Gothic  hall  divided  by  two 

ROWS  of  graceful,  clustered  columns  " — Poitiers  .     247 
"The  Cloister- WALKS  are  simply  built" — Lugon  .     €49 

"All  this   beauty   seems  to   have   been   planned   in 

HONOUR  OF  Mary  immaculate  whose  white  statue 

RISES  IN  ITS  midst" — LugoH    .  .  .         .  .251 

"Above  the  Palace  which  has  the  arms  of  Richelieu, 

THE    SPIRE    looms    SUGGESTIVELY" — LugoU  .       253 

"An  almost  life-sized  figure  of  the  great  Richelieu 

IN  the  flowing  robes  of  a  Cardinal" — Lugon         .      254 

"?ro   CASTLE    GARDEN    OF    FAIR  TOURAINE    COULD   BE    MORE 

charming" — Lugon         ......      255 

"The  sunny  library  filled  with  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions OF  books" — Lugon     .....      257 

"The  renascent  classic  of  the  tower  and  the  facade 
which  is  scarcely  more  than  the  tower's  base" 
— Lugon         ........      258 

"From  the  steps  of  the  High  Altar  the  nave  seems 

EXQUISITELY  LOFTY,  DELICATE,  and  white" LugOH     .        259 

"'Ruined  by  the  Huguenots'  are  the  terrible  words 
which  mark  the  XVI  century  history  of  innumer- 
able churches  in  France  " — Maillezais  .  .      263 


Illustrations.  xi 

PAGE 

"Peasants     .      .      .     were  slowly  plying  up  and  down 

THE  TINY  stream" — Maillezais  ...  .      277 

"A    GRASS-LINED    MOAT    STRETCHES    BETWEEN    THE    DUSTY 

ROAD  AND  THE  chateau" — Maillezais       .  .  .      281 

"Beyond  the  nave  are  the   most   beautiful  of  the 

RUINS,  the  SLENDER  ARCHES  OF  THE  WINDOWS  OF  THE 

NORTHERN  transept" — Maillezais  .  .  .      285 

"Cromwell   and    religious    bands    left    in    England 

such  lonely  walls  as  those  of  lower  poitou  " 

Maillezais      ........      289 

In  "the  HARBOUR  OF  La  Rochelle"      ....     299 

"The  last  Bishop  of  Maillezais"  who  became  "the 
FIRST  Bishop  of  La  Rochelle"  (From  a  print  in  the 
Library  of  the  episcopal  Palace  of  Lufon)  .  .     303 

"The  old  tower  of  Saint-Barthelemy" — La  Rochelle    .     304 

"A     small    chapel    which     is     now     used     BY    THE     GOOD 

Ursulines  OF  Chavagnes" — La  Rochelle  .  .     305 

"The  BROKEN  arches  .  .  .  AND  IN  THE  DISTANCE, 
THE    CHARMING    GOTHIC    TOWER    OF    SaINT-EuTROPE  " 

— Saintes       ........      309 

"The   Corinthian   Arch   of   Germanicus   half-hidden 

IN  THE  GROVE  OF  trees" SaifltCS  .  .  .        313 

"The   tower     .      .      .     loomed    suggestively   across 

THE  river" — Saintes       .  *       .  .  .  .  -317 

"The  MUTILATED  PORTAL  WHICH  FORMS  THE  MAIN  ENTRANCE 

TO  THE  Cathedral" — Saintes  .  .  .  .319 

"The    high   gable    of    the    transept  with  its  gaunt 

PEAK  pointing  SKYWARD,        .        .         .        AND  FRAGMENTS 
OF  WALL  WHOSE   CREVASSES  ARE   FILLED   WITH   GRASS  " 

— Saintes       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .321 

"There  is  little  ornamentation;  everything  has  been 

PLAINLY     .      .      .     restored" — Sointcs  .  .     323 

"  'The  Cathedral  of  Saint-Andre'  writes  Cardinal 

DONNET,    'is   like   AN   OLD   AND   ENORMOUS 

tree        .         .         .        WHOSE    branches    HAVE    SPREAD    IN 

LUXURIANT  vegetation'  " — Bordeaux       .  .  -325 


xii  Illustrations. 

PAGE 

"Beyond,  ...  in  the  mellow  light  of  stained- 
glass,  RISES  THE  TALL  CHOIR  WHOSE  EVERY  LINE  IS 
SVELTE,  CORRECT,  AND  BEAUTIFUL" BordeaUX  .       329 

"Its  STONE  is  soft  brown,  its  lighting,  mellow,  and 

ITS  BEAUTY  IS  THAT  ...  OF  SLENDER  HEIGHT 
THAT  IS  PERFECTLY  AND  GRACEFULLY   PROPORTIONED" 

— Bordeaux    ........     333 

"The  TRANSEPT,  DOMINATED  BY  .  LOFTY  SPIRES  " 

— Bordeaux    ........     336 

One  OF  THE  "ANGULAR  PILLARS  ENDING  IN  LITTLE,  ORNA- 
MENTED TURRETS,  WHICH  STAND  APART  FROM  THE 
CHURCH  LIKE  A    ROW    OF    GRENADIERS    ON     GUARD" 

Bordeaux        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  -337- 

"ThE    NOBLE   APSE   WITH    ITS   GREAT,    OUTSTRETCHED   LINES 

OF  FLYING  buttresses" — Bordeoux  .  .  .      ^^g 

"The  portal     .      .  where  the  magnificent  Clem- 

ent V  STANDS  against  THE  PIER  THAT  DIVIDES  THE 
DOORWAY,     SURROUNDED,     AS     IT     WERE,     BY    THE     SIX 

Cardinals  of  the  lateral  niches" — Bordeaux  343 

"  Pey  Berland  built  his  brown  tower  much  as  it  stands 

to-day" — Bordeaux         ......     347 

"The  beautiful  throne  which  stands  in  the  choir  "  of 

Saint-Seurin — Bordeaux         .  .  .  .  349 

In  "the  collegiate  church  of  Saint-Seurin" — Bor- 
deaux   .  .  .  .  .  -351 

"A    solid,    rounded    structure  .  with    five 

little  apses  nestling  about  it  as  chicks  around 
THE  mother-hen" — Agen        .....      354 

"These  portals     .      .      .     are  very  graceful,  very 

ornate,  AND  very  beautiful "--5aza5  -357 

"The  interior,  in  spite  of  a  size  which  is  almost  vast, 

lacks  nobility" — Bazas         .....     361 

"The  lower,  SIMPLER  side-aisle" — Bazas     .         .  .     363 

Map  of  the  Provinces  of  Burgundy,  Savoy,  Dauphine. 

Auvergne,  Aquitaine         .  .  .  .  .at  end 


Auvergne. 

(Continued.) 


AUVERGNE    {Continued). 

The  traveller  was  stopping  with  a  well-to- 
%C  pup.  do  farmer  of  Langogne.  He  had  arrived 
about  the  first  of  August  and,  as  he  had 
come  with  letters  from  their  friends,  the 
whole  family  had  immediately  taken  him  into  their 
confidence  and  told  him  of  the  extraordinary  favour 
which  heaven  was  about  to  bestow  on  them,  and  on 
him  too,  if  he  so  elected, — "all  the  world — everyone 
— the  family  entire — ' '  was  to  go  up  to  Le  Puy  for  the 
Feast  of  the  Assumption. 

"All  the  world"  consisted  of  Monsieur  Leborne, 
Madame  his  wife,  Philom^ne,  a  sage  little  person  aged 
ten,  and  Chariot,  a  delicate  boy  of  seven.  Never  was 
the  Blessed  Mother  more  ardently  besieged  than  by 
this  "family  entire."  They  prayed  for  a  clear  day, 
a  cool  day,  a  still  day;  they  prayed  that  the  left  front 
wheel  which  had  once  fallen  off  might  do  so  no  more, 
and  that  Charles  the  Bald — their  horse — might  feel 
especially  well,  and  that  their  sins  might  be  forgiven. 
They  prayed  incessantly — ^until  they  discovered  that 
the  traveller  had  never  seen  Le  Puy  and  did  not  know 
why  it  should  be  so  much  more  beautiful  to  celebrate 
the  Feast  there  than  in  Langogne.  Much  of  the 
attention  of  the  whole  family,  it  is  to  be  feared,  was 
then  turned  from  her  whom  they  called   their  ' '  Good 

3 


4  Auvergne. 

Lad}^"  to  the  unworthy  traveller  They  catechised 
him  in  a  thorough  manner  which  did  credit  to  the 
teachings  of  Monsieur  the  Vicar. 

" Did  he  not  know  who  the  Virgin  was?  Did  he  not 
know  about  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption — and  its 
date — and  one's  duty  on  the  holy  day?" 

To  all  these  questions  the  traveller  was  able  to  give 
satisfactory  answers. 

"Well,  you  do  look  like  a  Christian,"  said  Philomene 
with  relief.  And  the  traveller,  who  had  seen  the 
pictures  of  heretics  and  infidels  in  the  little  girl's 
"prize-book,"  felt  complimented. 

"It  is,  however,  serious  to  know  no  more,"  con- 
tinued Philomene  meditatively,  looking  up  at  him  with 
her  large  brown  eyes.  "Every  good  Christian  in  the 
whole  world  knows  why  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption  is 
more  beautiful  in  Le  Puy  than  just  here  at  home- 
even  I,  who  have  not  yet  taken  my  First  Communion, 
even  I  know  that." 

"Monsieur  knows  more  than  you  will  ever  dream 
of,  and  has  already  seen  more  than  you  will  ever  see 
until  you  get  to  heaven.  Give  Monsieur  peace,  I  beg 
you,"  her  mother  interrupted  sharply. 

"Monsieur,"  she  turned  to  the  traveller,  "they  are 
of  an  impudence  quite  insupportable! — However  it 
might  be  just  as  well,"  nodding  to  her  daughter,  "if 
you  and  Chariot  took  yourselves  down  to  Monsieur 
the  Curb's  and  asked  him  for  a  book  on  Notre-Dame 
du  Puy.     I  know  he  has  one,  for  I  have  seen  him  reading 


Le  Puy.  5 

from  it,  and  he  is  goodness  itself  and  will  take  pleasure 
in  lending  it  to  us. " 

**Mind  you  don't  tear  the  leaves  or  you  go  to  bed, 
both  of  you,"  called  their  mother,  with  a  twinkle  in 
her  eye,  as  she  watched  Philomene  and  her  brother, 
hand  in  hand,  scampering  down  the  road. 

That  afternoon  the  children,  directed  by  Madame 
Lebome,  led  the  traveller  to  a  quiet  spot  in  the  orchard, 
and  "gave  him  peace"  and  the  book  of  Monsieur  the 
Cure. 

For  the  historian,  the  psychologist,  and  the  lover 
of  human  nature,  all  its  pages  would  be  interesting, 
but  those  which  held  his  attention  longest  ran  in  this 
wise, — "Forty-five  years  after  the  Incarnation  of 
Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  during  the  reign  of  the  Emperor 
Claudius.  Saint  Peter,  who  two  years  before  had 
transferred  his  See  from  Antioch  to  Rome,  sent  several 
of  his  disciples  to  preach  ...  in  Gaul.  .  .  .  vSaint 
Martial  was  sent  to  Limoges,  vSaint  Denis  to  Paris, 
Saint  Julian  to  Le  Mans,  Saint  Trophime  to  Aries,  .  .  . 
Saint  Front  to  Perigueux,  and  Saint  George  to  the 
Velay.  Saint  George  and  Saint  Front  left  together 
to  go  to  the  places  of  their  mission.  But  at  the  end 
of  three  days  .  .  .  Saint  George  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  malady  and  died  almost  immediately. 

"Heartbroken  .  .  .  ,  Saint  Front  .  .  .  returned, 
found  Saint  Peter,  and  with  tears,  told  him  of  the  sad 
beginning  of  his  journey. 

"  'Weep  no  more,  my  son,'  said  Saint  Peter  to  him, 


6  Auvergne. 

'there  is  no  evil  in  what  you  have  told  me.  God  per- 
mitted this  death  only  for  His  glor}'  and  the  con\''ei'sion 
of  many  souls.  In  proof  of  what  I  say  take  my  pas- 
toral staff,  place  it  on  the  tomb  of  your  companion, 
and  say  "George,  servant  of  the  living  God,  in  the  name 
of  Jesus  and  through  Peter,  His  Vicar  on  earth,  I 
adjure  you  to  now  leave  the  tomb  ...  in  order  that, 
your  soul  having  rejoined  your  body,  you  may  con- 
tinue the  journey  you  have  begun. "  At  these  simple 
words  and  at  the  touch  of  this  staff  George  will  surely 
rise  again, '  added  Saint  Peter,  '  and  you  will  be  able  to 
go  forw^ard  together  and  illumine  with  the  light  of  the 
Gospel  many  poor  souls  who  .  .  .  are  in  the  darkness 
of  idolatry. ' 

"Much  rejoiced  .  .  .  ,  Saint  Front  took  the  staff  of 
the  Apostle,  Saint  Peter,  and  returned  in  haste  to  the 
place  where  lay  the  inanimate  body  of  Saint  George. 
A  great  multitude  of  infidels  of  both  sexes  were  gath- 
ered to  see  what  would  occur. .  Then,  in  the  presence 
of  all  these  spectators.  Saint  Front  drew  near  to  the 
tomb,  placed  the  staff  .  .  .  upon  it,  and  invoking  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ  commanded  the  dead  man  to 
arise.  Suddenly  .  .  .  George,  like  another  Lazarus, 
came  forth  from  the  tomb  full  of  life  and  health.  Im- 
mediately the  multitude  shouted  triumphantly  in 
honour  of  Christ,  .  .  .  and  Saint  Front  had  the  joy  of 
.  .  .  baptising  several  thousand  converts." 

After  this  second  and  auspicious  beginning  the  two 
missionaries  continued  happily  on  their  way,  and  soon 


Le  Puy.  7 

arrived  in  France  where  Saint  Front  was  obliged  to 
leave  Saint  George  in  order  to  go  to  P^rigueux,  which 
was  the  place  Saint  Peter  had  expressly  assigned  to 
him. 

^  "Saint  George,  .  .  .  alone  in  the  Velay,  began  the 
conversion  of  idolaters  with  the  greatest  zeal.  Every- 
where that  he  could  make  himself  heard,  in  the  streets, 
in  the  public  squares,  and  even  within  the  walls  of  the 
praetoriunri,  .  ,  .  everywhere  he  courageously  preached 
the  Word  of  God.  And  the  Holy  Spirit  gave  him  so  per- 
suasive an  eloquence  .  .  .  that  in  a  short  time  he  had 
baptised  a  great  number  of  heathen.  .  .  .  Then 
George,  armed  with  the  sign  of  the  Cross,  penetrated 
into  a  pagan  Temple  dedicated  to  the  Sun.  .  .  .  The 
multitude  followed  precipitately.  But  scarcely  had 
-the  Saint  put  his  foot  in  the  Temple  when  the  invisible 
demons,  with  which  the  place  was  filled,  began  to  cry 
and  shriek  horribly.  But  George,  armed  with  the 
sign  of  the  Cross,  commanded  all  the  demons  who  were 
there  to  leave  .  .  .  the  statues  which  they  were  oc- 
cupying. Immediately  horrible  black  shapes,  casting 
flames  from  their  mouths  and  eyes,  were  seen  to  come 
from  the  statues  which  adorned  the  Temple.  They 
roared  like  lions,  to  the  great  alarm  of  the  people  who 
would  have  fled  if  the  Saint  had  not  ordered  all  the  evil 
spirits  to  return  to  the  depths  of  Hell,  Then  a  terrible 
noise  was  heard  like  that  of  a  falling  mountain.  It 
was  the  sound  which  all  these  infernal  monsters  made 
in  disappearing  and  retiring  to  their  haunts."     Saint 


8  Auvergne. 

George  then  dedicated  the  Temple  "to  the  service  of 
the  true  God  under  the  name  and  in  the  honour  of  the 
august  Queen  of  Heaven." 

"Such  was  the  introduction  of  the  worship  of  Mary 
in  the  mountains  of  the  Velay. "  This,  however,  was 
not  in  Le  Puy  itself;  and  the  traveller,  searching 
further,  found  that  that  event  occurred  in  a  very 
different  manner.  "A  pious  widow,"  stated  the  book 
of  Monsieur  the  Cur^,  "who  had  been  baptised  by 
Saint  Front,  .  .  .  had  long  suffered  from  a  fever  which 
no  remedy  would  cure.  Obtaining  no  relief  from  men,, 
she  petitioned  the  Holy  Virgin,  who  replied, — 'Arise, 
my  daughter,  from  the  bed  where  you  cannot  find 
health  and  seek  it  on  Mount  Anis  where  it  shall  be 
given  you.'  Obedient  to  this  voice  the  sick  woman 
ordered  her  domestics  to  carry  her  to  the  place  indi- 
cated. Upon  arriving  she  saw  a  great,  square,  black 
stone  [probably  a  dolmen]  * '  formed  like  an  Altar, 
on  which  she  lay  down  and  went  to  sleep.  During 
this  sleep  she  saw  a  group  of  angels  surrounding  a  Lady 
who  was  enshrouded  in  light  and  clothed  in  royal  robes. 
At  first  the  sight  troubled  her;  but  soon  reassured,  she 
found  courage  to  ask  who  this  Queen  was.  One  of  the 
celestial  spirits  replied,  'This  is  the  august  Mother  of 
the  Saviour,  who,  from  out  all  the  places  of  the  world, 
has  especially  chosen  this  spot  in  which  to  be  served 
and  honoured  until  the  end  of  time;  and  in  order  that 
you  may  not  believe  that  which  you  see  to  be  a  vain 
dream,  the  recovery  which  you  desire  is  accorded  you.' 


Le  Puy.  9 

With  these  words  the  vision  disappeared  in  the  raidst 
of  sweet  music  and  the  sick  woman  awoke  in  all  the 
vigour  of  health. 

"As  may  be  believed,  her  first  care  was  to  find  Saint 
George  and  tell  him  of  the  miracle  which  had  just 
taken  place.  At  this  news  the  holy  Bishop  went  in 
haste  to  Mount  Anis;  but  what  was  his  surprise  to 
see  its  summit  .  .  .  ,  which  forms  a  little  plateau, 
covered  with  snow,  although  it  was  then  the  eleventh 
day  of  July  and  extremely  hot.  But  this  was  not  all, 
— beneath  the  eyes  of  the  astounded  Saint  a  stag 
suddenly  darted  forth  and,  in  his  rapid  course,  traced 
in  the  snow  the  outline  of  a  church  of  which  George, 
inspired  from  on  high,  predicted  the  future  glory. 
Too  impoverished  or  too  busily  occupied  to  build  the 
sacred  edifice,  he  surrounded  the  site  with  a  hedge 
of  hawthome.  The  next  day  the  snow  had  disappeared , 
and  by  another  miracle  .  .  .  the  blossoming  hawthorne 
spread  over  the  mountain  like  a  virgin's  crown. 

"The  rumours  of  these  wondrous  deeds  soon  came 
to  the  ears  of  Saint  Martial  who  was  evangelising  the 
neighbouring  country.  The  Apostle  of  Aquitaine  also 
visited  the  blessed  mountain.  He  designated  the  place 
of  the  Altar,  and  in  memory  of  his  pilgrimage  left  a 
slipper  of  the  Holy  Virgin  which  can  be  seen  to-day 
in  the  Treasury  of  the  Cathedral.  The  two  Apostles 
soon  separated,  .  .  .  and  at  length  Saint  George, 
worn  by  labour  and  ...  by  age,  died  ...  in  the 
year  84  of  Our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." 


I  o  Auvergne. 

"The  sanctuary  was  built, "  read  the  traveller  a  few 
pages  further  on,  "and  it  only  remained  to  consecrate 
it.  But  as  at  that  period  no  church  could  be  conse- 
crated without  the  especial  permission  of  the  Holy  See, 
Saint  Vosy  and  Saint  Scutaire  set  out  for  Rome. 
Scarcely  had  they  journeyed  an  hour  when  they  met 
on  the  banks  of  the  Loire  .  .  .  two  venerable  old 
men,  who  were  walking  solemnly  and  carrying  .  .  . 
two  little  chests  sparkling  with  gold.  Seized  with 
astonishment  at  the  sight  of  these  august  and  myste- 
rious personages,  Vosy  and  his  companion  respectfully 
addressed  them,  asked  them  who  they  were,  whence 
they  came,  and  where  they  were  going  amidst  these 
mountains  and  forests. 

**  'Faithful  servants  of  the  Mother  of  God,'  replied 
one  of  the  venerable  pilgrims  in  a  grave  voice,  '  journey 
no  further;  we  are  sent  from  Rome  to  give  to  you  these 
relics  which  you  will  know  by  their  inscriptions.  Re- 
turn, and,  barefooted,  carry  them  to  the  Church  of 
Mount  Anis.  ...  As  to  the  consecration,  concern 
yourselves  no  more  about  it;  for  the  hand  of  man  should 
in  no  wise  consecrate  the  sanctuary  which  you  have 
raised  to  the  Queen  of  Heaven.  It  is  for  the  angels 
.  .  .  that  this  honour  is  reserved.  Such  is  the  will  of 
God.' 

"  ...  At  these  words  Saint  Vosy  and  Saint  Scu- 
taire took  the  shoes  from  off  their  feet  and  knelt  to 
receive  the  precious  relics,  but  the  mysterious  old  men 
had  no  sooner  placed  them  in  their  hands  than  they 


Le  Puy.  1 1 

suddenly  vanished,  thus  proving  that  they  were  Angels 
and  not  men.  .  .   . 

"The  people,  informed  of  these  happenings,  as- 
sembled in  haste  .  .  .  and  ascended  the  mountain, 
singing  hymns  of  joy.  .  .  .  When,  oh,  miracle  !  as  they 
approached  the  sacred  Temple,  the  bells  began  to  peal 
without  the  aid  of  human  hands,  the  portals  of  the 
Basilica  opened  of  themselves,  and  the  sanctuary  was 
seen  resplendent  with  the  light  of  thousands  of  candles, 
while  the  celestial  perfume  of  the  holy  oil,  with  which 
the  walls  .  .  .  and  the  Altar  had  been  anointed  by  the 
Angels,  enveloped  the  entire  church  in  its  suave 
odour.   .   .   . 

"The  prayers  finished,  the  torches  were  gathered 
and  religiously  preserved.  Two  have  remained  to 
our  own  times  in  spite  of  the  upheaval  of  the  great 
French  Revolution.  They  are  preciously  guarded  in 
the  Treasury  of  the  Cathedral,  where  we  have  seen 
them  and  where  they  still  exhale  a  delicious  per- 
fume." 

"Have  you  read  it  all?"  asked  a  little  voice  in  the 
traveller's  ear.  The  traveller,  saturated  in  mystery 
and  miracle,  started  as  if  an  Angel  had  appeared  to 
him  also.     Philomene  stood  beside  him. 

"No,  not  all,"  he  was  obliged  to  answer  apolo- 
getically, "but  I  am  getting  along  nicely." 

"Do  you  know  what  the  Great  Pardon  is?" 

"Not  yet — but  I  know  about  the  Angels  and  Saint 
George  and " 


1 2  Auvergne. 

"You  don't  know  much  yet  I'm  afraid,"  said 
Philotn^ne  gravely. 

"Well,  do  you  know  what  the  Great  Pardon  is?" 

"Of — course — I  do,"  she  replied  with  dignity,  "I 
have  known  it  always — or  at  least  since  I  was  very 
small,  much  smaller  than  Chariot." 

"Then  tell  me  about  it.  " 

Philom^ne  took  a  long  breath  and  selected  a  spot 
where  she  could  sit  and  look  up  at  the  traveller. 

"It  was  like  this, — there  was  once  a  very  peculiar 
year  called  '  one  thousand. '  If  you  write  it  down  you 
will  see  how  strange  it  looks,  and  the  people  who  lived 
in  that  year  believed  it  would  be  the  end  of  the  world. 
Some  of  them  even  had  visions — which  proves  that  one 
must  be  very  careful.  For  they  were  all  wrong;  and 
besides,  visions  can  come  from  the  demons."  She 
sighed  and  looked  off  into  the  orchard. 

"Did  you  ever  have  a  vision,  Philom^ne?"  asked 
the  traveller,  after  a  few  seconds  of  silence. 

She  sighed  again.  "Sometimes  one  does  hear 
things  when  one  comes  among  these  trees  after  sun- 
down and  the  mountains  over  there  have  halos, — 
but  Monsieur  the  Cur^  recommends  humility — and 
I  really  have  not  heard  any  words. — 

"But,  as  I  was  saying,  the  people  believed  the  end 
of  the  world  would  come  in  the  year  looo  or  in  992 
when  the  Feast  of  the  Annunciation  and  Good  Friday 
fell  on  the  same  day.  This  made  the  celebration  of 
the  first  and  last  day  of  Our  Lord's  life  come  together. 


Le  Puy.  13 

which  is  in  itself  a  mystery.  I  shall  be  almost  sixteen 
years  old  when  that  next  occurs,  Monsieur.  The  end 
of  the  world  will  perhaps  not  come  but  I  shall  go  to 
Le  Puy,  for  it  is  prudent  to  be  near  the  Blessed  Virgin 
at  such  times — one  is  more  distant  from  the  power  of 
the  Father  of  Evil.  Of  course  we  all  know  that  the 
world  did  not  come  to  an  end  in  992,  but  many  hun- 
dreds and  hundreds  of  people  came  to  Le  Puy  in  that 
year,  and  so  the  Holy  Father  made  it  a  'Great  Pardon' 
there  whenever  the  two  holy-days  come  together. 
Shall  you  come  in  1910,  Monsieur?" 

"  I  hope  so, "  said  the  traveller. 

"One  can  get  forgiveness  for  many,  many  sins," 
meditated  Philomene.  "But  read  it  in  the  book, 
Monsieur,  and  I  will  come  back  again. " 

With  Philomene's  help  the  traveller  was  enabled  to 
skip  many  pages  and  read  of  the  throngs  who  pressed 
into  the  narrow  streets  of  Le  Puy  to  seek  for  pardon  and 
new  graces.  "They  were  so  great,"  wrote  the  good 
Abbe,  that  "if  one  dropped  anything  no  one  had  space 
to  stoop  and  pick  it  up.  In  order  to  find  each  other 
the  inhabitants  of  the  same  district  and  the  members 
of  one  family  waved  sticks  bearing  a  particular  sign; 
and  the  heat  was  so  great  .  .  .  that  they  were  obliged 
to  beg  those  who  were  looking  down  from  the  windows 
to  throw  water  on  their  heads,  .  .  .  and  the  chari- 
table added  fruit  to  quench  their  thirst.  .  .  .  The 
three  thousand  confessors  whom  the  Bishop  had  pro- 
vided were  so  far  from  sufficing   .   .  .   that  another 


1 4  Auvergne. 

thousand  had  to  be  added.  They  were  placed  in  rows 
in  the  Basilica;  the  churches,  the  portals,  and  the 
cemeteries  were  lined  with  them.  Several  stationed 
themselves  at  the  Gate  of  Saint-Gilles,  and  a  great 
number  were  to  be  found  in  the  large  prairie,"  to-day 
the  Place  du  Breuil. 

"Charlemagne  was  the  first  to  trace  for  his  suc- 
cessors the  way  to  Mount  Anis  and  to  come  and  bow- 
before  the  glorious  Virgin  a  head  so  often  crowned 
by  victory."  From  Urban  II  to  Alexander  III,  from 
Charlemagne  to  Francis  I,  from  Saint  George  to  Saint 
Dominic  and  Saint  Vincent  Ferrier,  Popes,  Kings, 
princes.  Saints,  Abbots,  priests,  and  monks,  were  in 
the  armies  of  humble  pilgrims.  What  wondrous 
pageants  have  been  seen  in  Le  Puy,  what  curious 
spectacles  of  Mediaevalism!  In  1416,  at  the  hour  of  the 
first  Vespers,  an  hundred  monks  dressed  in  penitential 
garb,  barefooted,  preceded  by  a  cross-bearer  carrying 
a  great  Crucifix,  slowly  and  solemnly  entered  the  city. 
They  walked  two  by  two;  and  at  the  end  of  their  long 
procession,  riding  a  mule,  came  an  aged  and  infirm 
Saint,  Vincent  of  Spain,  who  inaugurated  in  this  im- 
pressive manner  his  Mission  of  prayer  and  exhortation. 

It  was  in  the  Cathedral,  two  centuries  earlier,  that 
the  Virgin  appeared  to  the  ardent  founder  of  the 
Dominican  Order  and  counselled  for  the  conversion  of 
perverts  and  heretics,  not  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition 
but  the  sweet  prayers  of  the  Rosary.  She  exhorted 
that  fiery  soul  to  patience,  and  said,  "If  3^011  would 


Lc  Puy.  15 

stop  .  .  .  the  evils  .  .  .  which  afflict  .  .  .  the  Holy 
Church,  preach  without  ceasing  to  the  poor  stray 
sheep  the  mysteries  of  their  redemption,  and  lead  them 
to  meditation,  for  all  the  present  evil  comes  from 
ignorance  and  forgetfulness  of  the  truths  of  the  Faith.  " 

As  the  dusk  fell  across  the  hills  of  the  C^vennes  and 
the  shadows  grew  deeper  in  the  orchard,  the  traveller 
closed  the  Cure's  book  and  felt  prepared  to  go  to 
Le  Puy. 

The  great  day  approached;  but,  in  spite  of  pre- 
cautions and  many  prayers,  the  family  had  forgotten 
one  petition.  On  the  thirteenth  Madame  Lebome, 
who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  swamp-lands  of  the 
Mediterranean,  had  a  severe  attack  of  chills  and  fever; 
and  at  supper  Monsieur  Lebome  announced  that,  as 
his  wife  would  not  be  able  to  go,  the  children  of  course 
must  stay  at  home  to  take  care  of  their  mother.  He 
and  the  traveller  would  start  at  daybreak,  as  he  could 
then  stop  on  business  at  La  Sauvetat  and  Montagnac 
and  arrive  in  Le  Puy  before  night. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  household  that  went  to  bed  that 
night  and  a  mournful  one  which  arose  the  next  morning. 
Madame  Lebome  did  not  appear,  and  Philom^ne  stood 
at  the  door  with  a  big  lunch  basket. 

"Yesterday  was  a  bad  day, "  she  said  as  she  handed 
her  burden  to  the  traveller,  "the  thirteenth  is  unlucky 
even  for  Christians. " 

They  drove  away  in  silence.  "So  you  will  see  the 
Virgin  of  Le  Puy  for  the  first  time!     It  does  not  seem 


1 6  Auvergne. 

possible  that  any  one  could  live  to  your  age  without 
having  seen  her.  Although,  of  course,  I  know  that  the 
great  majority  in  this  world  have  never  seen  her  and 
will  never  see  her.  For  I  have  been  to  Clermont  and 
to  Lyons  and  have  learned  many  things. —  And  there 
is  no  denying  that  the  pilgrimages  to  Our  Lady  of  Le 
Puy  are  very  far  from  what  they  once  were. " 

"How  do  you  explain  it?"  asked  the  traveller. 

"Well  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  have  reasons  which 
satisfy  me.  You  see  the  present  statue  is  not  the  first 
one  nor  the  second  one,  but  a  third  made  after  the 
Revolution  to  typify  the  statue  which  was  burned  in 
the  days  of  '94.  Of  course  the  good  God  and  Our 
Lady  could  perform  as  many  miracles  with  one  image 
as  with  another — ^but  they  don't. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  it  was  with  the  first  statue 
which  disappeared  hundreds  of  years  ago,  because  no 
one  has  much  knowledge  of  it;  but  the  second  one  v/as 
very  wonderful.  Once  there  was  a  holy  Saint  called 
Jeremiah,  who  told  the  Egyptians — a  people  of  image- 
worshippers — that  their  idols  should  be  overthrown 
by  the  Son  of  a  Virgin  Mother.  Now  this  Jeremiah, 
although  not  a  sculptor,  could  carve  very  nicely.  So, 
in  order  that  the  heathen  might  not  forget  his  words, 
he  made  for  them  out  of  a  piece  of  cedar- wood  a  statue 
of  the  future  Jesus  and  Mary.  This  statue  was  bound 
after  the  manner  of  a  mummy  and  it  was  venerated  in 
three  countries  from  that  day  to  the  time  of  Mohammed. 
A  little  later  Saint  Louis  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 


Le  Puy.  ly 

Sultan  of  Egypt,  and  after  his  ransom  was  paid  the 
Sultan  wished  to  give  him  a  parting  gift.  Saint  Louis 
chose  the  statue  of  cedar,  and  although  the  infidel  King 
venerated  the  statue  greatly,  he  gave  it  up.  Then  Saint 
Louis,  not  to  be  outdone,  promised  that  he  would  place 
the  Black  Virgin  in  some  part  of  his  kingdom  of  France 
where  it  should  be  perpetually  adored.  In  that  way 
the  Black  Virgin  came  to  Le  Puy,  and  it  is  certain  she 
brought  with  her  pilgrimages  and  anarvellous  mira- 
cles. Both  became  less  at  her  departure.  Some  say 
that  the  statue  of  new  wood  has  as  great  a  virtue 
and  that  the  power  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  the 
same,  but  that  faith  is  less; — I  am  no  theologian,  but 
certain  things  are  impressive  —  powerful  —  effective. 
Who  can  say  what  virtue  lay  in  that  ancient  cedar 
carved  by  the  hands  of  the  venerable  prophet.  Saint 
Jeremiah?" 

There  was  a  pause.  "You  can  tell  Monsieur  the 
Cure,"  he  added  with  a  quick  laugh,  "that  I  preached 
you  into  La  Sauvetat  and  then  left  you  to  digest  the 
sermon. " 

True  to  his  word  Pierre  Leborne  left  the  traveller 
with  a  glass  of  "  caf d-cognac "  at  a  country  inn.  In 
an  hour  they  started  again,  and,  stopping  only  once 
more  for  "the  business"  and  luncheon,  drove  briskly 
among  the  great  hills  and  gorges  of  the  Cevennes. 
There  was  no  further  mention  of  the  coming  Feast 
nor  of  religion;  but  as  the  afternoon  wore  away,  the 
traveller,  who  had  been  reading  during  halts    in  the 

vol.     II 2 


i8 


Auvergne. 


two  villages,  asked  his  companion  if  he  would  like  to 
hear  what  other  people  thought  of  Le  Puy. 

"Willingly,"  answered  Pierre,  "I  see  it  myself  two 
or  three  times  a  year,  but  I  never  read  anybody's 
opinion  of  the  place. " 

The  traveller  drew  out  his  notes.  "An  hundred 
pens  have  written  of  Le  Puy,  yet  which  has  described 


LACE-MAKING. 


THE  BUSINESS      IN  THE  VILLAGE  NEAR  LE  PUY. 


its  surprising  beauty,  which  has  successfully  depicted 
its  charm,  which  has  painted  the  word-picture  so 
vividly,  that  he  who  does  not  know  Le  Puy  is  en- 
chanted by  its  wonders?  Who  has  written  so  truly 
that  he  who  is  exiled  can  see,  as  if  he  were  again  at 
home,  'the  hill  of  hills,  the  holy  town  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  the  most  picturesque  and  curious  city  in 


Le  Puy.  19 

France'?  It  is  'equally  surprising,'  writes  Hare,  an 
Englishman,  'in  its  situation,  its  buildings,  and  its 
surroundings.'  'Nothing,'  exclaimed  Georges  Sand, 
•  one  of  your  own  countrywomen,  'can  give  an  idea 
of  the  beauty  of  the  basin  of  I^e  Puy  and  I  know 
no  site  whose  character  is  more  difficult  to  describe.'  " 

"That  is  very  pretty,"  said  Pierre  as  the  traveller 
paused,  "it  is  like  ground  cleared  for  sowing.  Is  there 
no  more.  Monsieur?" 

"Imagine  a  large  basin,"  continued  the  traveller, 
"closely  surrounded  by  luxuriant,  rolling  hills;  imagine, 
above  these  hills  and  against  an  horizon  that  is  some- 
times sharp  and  sometimes  blue  and  hazy,  great, 
irregular  ranks  of  cone-shaped  mountains — central 
France  with  all  its  dead  volcanoes!  .  .  .  The  open 
heaven  is  as  vast  as  that  of  the  Campagna  of  Rome, 
but  hollowed  like  a  chalice-cup,  as  if  all  the  volcanoes 
which  have  convulsed  this  region  were  held  in  one 
common  crater  of  fabulous  dimensions.  Below,  within 
this  magnetic  zone,  the  basin  with  its  group  of  rocky 
pinnacles  is  no  less  strangely  beautiful.  It  has  the 
rock  of  Espaly;  another  hill;  the  high  Mount  Anis;  the 
near-by,  holy  ridge,  virtually  part  of  the  mountain; 
and  the  tall,  narrow  rock  of  Saint-Michel-1 'Aiguille 
which  Mandet  has  finely  called  '  a  volcanic  chimney. ' 
And  these  pinnacles  are  not  mere  mounds  of  earth  up 
which  a  King  of  France  might  march  ten  thousand 
men,  they  are  sharp,  jagged  peaks  that  rise  irregularly 
from  out  the  plain. " 


20  Auvergne. 

"Wait,  Monsieur,  wait!  I  have  brought  you  pur- 
posely by  this  road,"  Pierre  interrupted.  They  drove 
for  a  few  seconds  and  rounded  a  sharp  turn.  "Now 
what  do  you  see?"  he  asked  triumphantly. 

The  atmosphere  was  magnificently  resilient,  the 
first  glow  of  sunset  was  over  the  land,  and  the  traveller 
looked  into  the  clear  panorama  which  had  opened  so 
suddenly  before  him.  For  an  instant,  its  strange 
beauty  of  outline  and  colour  made  him  speechless. 

Finally  he  said,  "  I  see  it  all — I  see  it  all,  Lebome — 
the  hillock  crowned  by  its  picturesque  tower,  a  near-by 
rock " 

"That  is  the  rock  of  Espaly, "  Pierre  interrupted, 
"where  Charles  VII  lived  in  the  manor  of  the  Bishops 
of  Le  Puy." 

"I  recognise  Saint  Michael's  Mount  with  its  tiny 
brosvn  church  and  the  fine  needle  of  its  tower — the  huge 
pink  statue  of  Our  Lady  of  France  on  the  high,  rocky 
peak,  and,  lower  down,  the  dark  mass  of  the  Cathedral 
with  the  white  and  reddish  houses  that  nestle  about 
its  hillside — and  far  along  the  bluish  horizon  I  see 
the  soft  lines  of  distant  mountains — "  The  traveller 
stopped  in  breathless  enthusiasm. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful?"  asked  Pierre  with  quiet  pride. 
"I,  who  was  bom  here — I  am  not  like  the  people  of  the 
place.  I  never  see  Le  Puy  without  emotion — I  never 
leave  it  without  regret. ' 

The  next  morning  Monsieur  Lebome,  dressed  in 
Sunday-best  and  accompanied  by  several  cousins,  led 


Le  Puy.  23 

the  traveller  through  narrow,  dark  streets,  that  were 
lined  by  high  houses,  to  a  very  small  square.  There, 
turning  near  a  pretty  Gothic  fountain,  Pierre  said 
simply,  "Look,  Monsieur!" 

The  traveller  gazed  up  a  steep,  hilly  street.  On 
either  side,  innumerable  stone  steps  were  built  in  broad 
flights  to  its  summit,  and  many  beautifully  dressed 
ladies,  peasant  women  in  black  gowns  with  white 
caps,  gay  ribbons,  and  gold  Crosses  on  their  breasts, 
men  conventionally  attired,  men  in  stiff,  new  blouses, 
and  boys,  and  girls,  were  hurrying  up  and  down  the  hill. 

Reaching  the  top  of  the  street  the  traveller  and  his 
companions  began  to  climb  the  long,  majestic  flight 
of  steps  that  leads  to  the  Cathedral.  Here  a  few  wor- 
shippers on  their  knees  were  slowly  and  painfully  as- 
cending, but  their  faces  were  alight,  and  they  glanced 
continually  toward  the  high  fagade  and  the  dark  porch 
of  the  Cathedral  which  rose  above  them.  Underneath 
the  heavy  arch  of  the  porch  the  steps  rose  to  an  Altar, 
at  whose  base  many  knelt  and  kissed  a  blackish 
stone. 

"It  is  the  dolmen-stone — the  place  where  the  holy 
widow  slept, "  whispered  the  farmer  and  bent  his  knee. 

On  either  side  of  this  Altar  the  stairway  divided, 
and  continued  in  short  flights.  They  took  the  flight 
to  the  left  and  entered  the  church.  With  a  hurried 
whisper  and  a  peck  at  the  Holy  Water,  Lebome  and 
one  of  his  cousins  darted  into  a  chapel  and,  with  in- 
credibly noiseless  dexterity,  brought  back  six  chairs 


24 


Auvergne. 


and  placed  them  in  the  transept,  close  to  the  choir 
screen.  With  a  sigh  of  relief  and  contentment,  the 
whole  party  sank  into  the  seats. 

Pierre  leaned  towards  the  traveller  and  whispered, 


SAINT   MICHAEL  S   MOUNT   WITH    ITS   TINY   BROWN   CHURCH 
AND   THE    FINE   NEEDLE   OF   ITS   TOWER." LE   PUY. 

"This  is  the  place  of  all  places  for  me.     One  can  see 
the   whole   Mass,    and   when    Monseigneur   gives   the 


IN  THE  TOWN  OF  ESPALY. 


25 


Le  Puy. 


27 


Benediction  one  is  so  close— just  to  watch  him  at  that 
moment  is  a  blessing.  " 

The  Cathedral  was  rapidly  filling,  but  Mass  had  not 
begun;  and  the  traveller,  looking  about  him,  saw  that 


"a  steep,  hilly  street,  with  innumerable  stone 
steps  on  either  side." le  puy. 


the  mterior  had  side  aisles,  a  nave  of  six  bays,  a  square 
choir,  and  transepts  ending  in  apses,  that  the  first 
four  bavs  were  more  ornamental  than  the  others  and 


28  Auvergne. 

the  arches  more  pointed.  The  central  cupola  formed 
the  lantern.  There  was,  of  course,  no  western  entrance. 
The  transepts  were  divided  equally  into  two  stories, 
and  the  pillars  of  the  lower  story  had  "capitals  of  in- 
describable richness."  These  were  indeed  the  forms 
of  the  church ;  but  such  a  delineation  would  be  the  letter 
denuded  of  the  spirit.  Remembering  his  reading  of 
the  day  before,  the  traveller  was  impressed  by  the 
words  of  Georges  Sand  in  the  Marquis  de  Villemer, 
"the  interior  is  sublime  in  its  finished  strength  and 
religious  light.  Never  have  I  comprehended  and,  as  it 
were,  experienced  the  terror  of  the  Middle  Ages  as 
under  these  black  pillars,  beneath  these  cupolas. " 
Here  was  the  true,  old,  fortress  church;  dark,  heav}^, 
and  massive;  with  few  windows,  and  with  no  large 
portals. 

In  all  this  powerful  construction  there  is  no  crude- 
ness,  but  on  the  contrary  finish,  great  elegance,  and 
fine  symmetr}'-  of  fonn.  The  sombre,  basaltic  stone 
of  the  building  is  relieved  by  the  lighter  tone  of  the 
capitals;  the  carvings  on  pier  and  column  and  in  the 
beautiful  cupolas  are  deep  and  rich  beyond  compare; 
and  not  only  is  the  mature  art  of  its  builders  made 
manifest  in  the  decorations,  but  in  the  beautiful  light- 
ing of  the  interior,  in  that  subdued  and  devotional 
light  which  falls  and  envelops  the  church  in  pale, 
mysterious  radiance.  The  Cathedral  is  no  less 
staunchly  built  than  the  fortress-churches  of  the 
Mediten-anean,  but  between  the  two  constructions  the 


HERE   WAS    THE    TRUE,    OLD    FORTRESS    CHURCH,    DARK,    HEAVY,    AND 
MASSIVE." LE   PUY. 


2q 


Le  Puy.  31 

difference  is  vast.  Maguelonne  is  and  must  always 
have  been  rugged;  the  interior  of  Agde  is  simple;  that 
of  Le  Puy  is  of  the  Auvergnat  Romanesque  which, 
"even  in  the  XI  century,"  writes  Viollet-le-Duc, 
"possessed  builders  of  rare  ability,  who  were  much 
more  skilled  than  those  of  the  other  provinces  of 
France." 

As  these  comparisons  were  running  through  the 
traveller's  mind,  he  was  distracted  by  the  ringing  of 
a  bell.  Immediately  the  organ  sounded  softly,  and 
looking  through  the  magnificent,  wrought-iron  choir 
screen,  he  saw  a  procession  of  priestly  figures  which 
w^as  entering  the  enclosure.  There  was  the  Bishop  in 
trailing,  purple  robes,  an  elderly  man  with  a  fine, 
cameo  face;  there  were  two  Canons  who  sat  on  either 
side  of  him;  and  other  Canons,  in  long,  dark  robes  and 
fur-trimmed  capes.  Behind  them  was  the  valet  of  the 
Bishop,  a  layman  dressed  entirely  in  black  who  dis- 
creetly effaced  himself  near  a  huge  pier.  There  were 
the  officiating  priest  and  his  assistants,  clothed  in 
gorgeous  vestments  embroidered  in  silks  and  thread 
of  gold,  and  there  were  also  altar-boys  garbed  in  red, 
with  cottas  of  fine  lace.  After  the  members  of  this 
procession  had  slowly  and  solemnl}^  taken  their  places, 
the  priest  chanted  Asperges  me,  Domine,  the  Bishop 
was  sprinkled  with  Holy  Water,  the  priests  and  the 
congregation  were  also  sprinkled,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  Mass  had  begun. 

The  traveller  had  assisted  at  many  a  more  splendid 


32 


Auvergne. 


service,  he  had  heard  much  more  beautiful  music  in 
other  Cathedrals,  but  he  never  had  heard  a  Mass  more 
fittingly  and  imposingly  sung.  In  perfect  obedience 
to  the  injunction  of  Pope  Pius  X  the  chanting  was 
pure  and  simple,  the  movements  of  the  celebrant  were 
measured  and  reverential,  the  postures  and  demeanour 
of  the  altar-boys  were  carefully  correct.     The  whole 

ceremony  was  stately  and  devo- 
tional, an  antithesis  to  the  Masses 
which  European  tourists  are 
wont  to  describe;  and  at  the 
end,  when  the  Bishop  arose  and 
in  the  perfect  silence,  amid  the 
kneeling  priests  and  people, 
slowly  chanted  the  simple  words, 
Benedicat  vos  omnipotens  Deus, 
Pater,  et  Filius,  et  Spiriius  Sanc- 
tus,  it  was — as  Pierre  had  said 
—  "a  blessing  just  to  look"  at 
his  uplifted  old  face,  and  every 
heart    echoed    the     responsive 

THE   BISHOP  OP  LE   PUY.  t«  Ampn    " 

Although  it  was  after  eleven  and  "  high  time  for 
eating,"  according  to  his  cousins,  Pierre  led  the  trav- 
eller across  the  Cathedral  and  into  the  Cloister.  It 
lay  warm  in  the  hot  August  sun  and  the  spell  of  the 
noonday  silence  and  solitude  was  on  it. 

"I  had  a  fancy  that  you  should  come  for  the  first 
when  other  folks  were  not  here,"   said  the  farmer. 


Le  Puy. 


33 


*'  Yoii  know  we  may  be  standing  where  the  angels  stood, 
for  this  is  called  '  the  angelic  church. '  A  great  many 
people  say  that  they  don't  believe  it  was, — once  I 
myself  did  not  believe  it, — but  it  is  a  pretty  idea — and 
why  not?" 

"Why  not  indeed?"  echoed  the  traveller,  com- 
pletely under  the  spell  of  the  Cloister. 

After  that  eventful  Feast-day  had  closed,  the  trav- 


'the  spell  of  the  noonday  silence  and  solitude  was  on  it." LE  PUY. 

eller  spent  many  days  at  Le  Puy,  for  many  are  necessary 
to  explore  and  understand  its  curious,  beautiful,  and 
bewildering  Cathedral.  From  almost  every  point  of 
the  surrounding  country  its  campanile,  its  great  lan- 
tern, and  its  strange  facade  appear  in  new  outline,  in 


34  Auvergne. 

fascinating  perspective;  and  to  look  down  at  them  from 
the  height  of  Notre-Dame  de  France,  to  perceive  them 
across  countr}^  or  across  the  roofs  of  the  httle  cit\', 
and  to  spy  the  tower  in  the  far  distance,  mean  days 
of  deHghtful  walks  and  climbs. 

The  most  impressive  approach  to  this  venerable 
church  of  the  XI  and  XII  centuries  is  the  stony,  hilly 
street  which  leads  to  its  great  western  porch.  This 
street  is  still  called  the  "rue  des  Tables, "  because  along 
either  side  of  it  the  Brothers  of  the  Hospital  formerly 
rented  tables  to  traders  who  wished  to  attract  the 
patrpnagev.  of  pilgrims.  The  daily  pilgrims  are  now 
few,  and  venders  no  longer  line  the  street,  but  this 
steep  path  is  full  of  old-time  suggestion,  and  as  VioUet- 
le-Duc  has  written,  "the  reminiscence  of  a  past  order 
of  things  is  even  more  obvious  here  than  before  the 
Cathedral  of  Autun. " 

The  traveller  went  up  the  broad  stairway;  and,  as  he 
stopped  beneath  the  heavy  vault  of  the  porch,  the 
setting  sun  lighted  its  dark  arches,  the  black  and  white 
layers  of  its  stones,  the  fine  carving  of  its  capitals,  and 
for  those  brief  moments  illumined  transplendently  the 
art  of  the  builders  of  Auvergne.  Then  the  light  began 
to  fade,  and  the  whole  porch  was  filled  with  marvellous, 
mysterious  shadows.  He  turned  to  ascend  again,  and 
read  these  words  carved  on  one  of  the  steps,  "You  who 
are  guilty  of  mortal  sin,  stop  here." 

Glancing  backward  once  more  before  he  left  the 
great  porch  and  plunged  into  the  mustiness  of  the 


LOOKING     DOWN    AT    THE    CATHEDRAL  "  FROM  THE     HEIGHTS    OF    NOTRE- 
DAME  DE  FRANCE." LE  PUY. 


35 


Le  Puy.  37 

short,  closed,  lateral  flights  of  steps,  he  looked  out  over 
a  sunlit  land  and  across  the  city's  roofs  to  the  hills 
of  Auvergne. 

"From  the  precipitous  nature  of  the  ground, "  writes 
Petit,  "the  elevation  of  this  western  front  does  not 
correspond  with  the  transverse  section  of  the  nave 
itself."  The  apse  of  the  Cathedral  and  its  first  bay 
were  built  on  the  edge  of  a  volcanic  declivity;  when 
the  continuation  of  the  church  was  considered,  it  was 
found  that  part  of  the  nave  would  inevitably  project 
beyond  the  sharp  incline  of  the  hill.  To  support  this 
nave  the  porch  of  the  XII  century  was  conceived  and 
its  huge  vaults  and  enormous  pillars  were  firmly  built 
against  the  hillside.  "The  Cathedral  of  Le-Puy-en- 
Velay, "  writes  Viollet-le-Duc,  "possesses  an  open 
porch  .  .  .  with  a  great  staircase,  or  rather  the  church 
itself  was  only  an  immense  porch  whose  steps  led 
directly  to  the  foot  of  the  Altar. ' '  Unfortunately  the 
unique  and  stupendous  architectural  and  devotional 
effect  of  this  great,  unbroken  flight  of  steps,  where 
thousands  of  pilgrims  might  kneel  and  see,  in  the 
distance,  the  lighted  tapers  of  the  Mass,  was  almost 
destroyed  when  its  last  steps  were  blocked  b}^  a  wall 
which  supports  the  flooring  of  the  nave.  Since  that 
time,  worshippers  have  mounted  to  "the  angelic  church" 
by  the  smaller,  lateral  staircases  into  which  the  great 
flight  diverges  at  the  Virgin's  Altar  which  forms  part 
of  the  obstructing  wall. 

Owing  to  its  peculiar  substructure  "the  floor  of  the 


38  Auvergne. 

nave,"  continues  Petit,  "is  about  the  level  of  the 
string  course  above  the  western  door.  .  .  .  Now  as 
this  front  is  not  immoderately  lofty  in  its  proportions, 
the  interior  itself  must  be  .  .  .  deficient  in  height. 
The  architect  had  to  correct  this  deficiency  to  the  eye 
and  to  the  imagination.  He  did  this  by  throwing 
across,  at  each  division  of  the  bays,  an  arch  supporting 
a  wall  pierced  with  arched  openings;  thus  giving  to 
each  bay  a  rectangular  lantern  covered  with  a  domical 
roof.  It  is  clear  that  this  arrangement  by  which  almost 
the  whole  of  the  real  roof  is  concealed  from  the  spec- 
tator, whatever  be  his  point  of  view,  adds  an  amazing 
imaginar}'  height;  and  the  light  through  the  clerestory 
gives  to  each  compartment  the  effect  of  an  open, 
central  tower." 

A  number  of  small  doors  lead  to  the  stairways, 
the  Sacristies,  the  Capitulary  Hall,  the  Cloister,  and  the 
pathway  to  the  higher  hill.  Of  all  these  doors  the 
most  interesting  is  that'  which  opens  upon  a  little 
terrace,  towards  the  Episcopal  Palace.  The  little 
terrace  is  the  sunny  ending  of  a  dark,  narrow  street,  a 
sort  of  tortuous,  winding  staircase  between  the  Canons' 
houses,  that  leads  downward  to  a  heavy,  arched  en- 
trance to  the  "Consular  city."  To  the  traveller's 
mind,  the  doorway  of  the  little  terrace  was  alwa\"s  the 
"Bishop's  Portal,"  because  it  is  here  that  Monseigneur 
usually  enters  his  Cathedral-church.  It  is,  however, 
more  than  a  portal;  it  is  a  porch.  Two  of  its  square 
sides  are  formed  bv  the  Cathedral's  walls,  the  other 


'FOR   THOSE    BRIEF    MOMENTS    THE    SETTING   SUN       .       .       .       ILLUMINATED 
TRANSPLENDENTLY   THE    ART   OF  THE    BUILDERS    OF    AUVERGNE." 


39 


Le  Puy. 


41 


two  are  fashioned  by  arches  and  pillars  exquisitely 
carven  with  geometric  art,  typical  figures,  and  beautiful 
foliage.  In  the  Dictionnaire  raisonne  Viollet-le- 
Duc  has  written  syrnpathetically  of  "the  extreme 
delicacy  of  the  black  and  white  carvings  of  this  porch," 
of  its  rare  bronze  knocker,  the  oldest  in  France,  which 


"it  is  more  than  a  portal,  it  is  a  porch" 

the  fugitive  of  the  Dark  Ages  grasped  "for  sanctuary," 
and  of  the  finely  cut  and  chiselled  shafts.  So  beautiful 
is  its  whole  construction,  both  in  the  harmonious 
strength  of  its  forms  and  the  exquisite  yet  vigorous 
elegance  of  its  details,  that  one  lingers  to  study  its 


42  Auvergne. 

many  perspectives  and  to  regret  that  the  art  of  Au- 
vergne should  have  been  so  soon  eclipsed  by  the  tri- 
umphant progress  of  the  architecture  of  the  Royal 
Domain. 

Through  another  doorway  which  opens  beneath  a 
heavy,  overhanging  arch,  one  enters  the  path  to  the 
high  promontory  of  Notre-Dame  de  France.  Just 
opposite  this  arch  is  a  building  of  plain,  rough  walls. 
Its  interior  is  a  miserable,  half -abandoned,  white- 
washed chapel;  and  nothing  more  decayed  and  com- 
monplace could  be  imagined  than  the  whole  structure. 
It  is  so  unnoticed  that,  in  their  works,  archaeologists 
sometimes  ignore  it  and,  in  their  visits,  tourists  pass 
it  by.  Information  about  its  history  is  contained  in 
a  few,  meagre  sentences, — it  was  the  Baptistery  of 
Saint  John,  of  the  IV  century,  and  partially  of  Roman 
construction.  These  phrases,  however  meagre,  fired 
the  curiosity  and  the  imagination  of  the  traveller.  He 
climbed  rickety  ladders  to  see  the  shadowy  frescoes 
now  hidden  by  the  beams  of  the  chapel,  he  clambered 
over  rubbish  to  find  traces  of  the  true  domical  form 
and  peered  in  dusty  comers  to  trace  some  bit  of  ancient 
construction.  All  is  very  worn  and  very  sordid,  but 
the  traces  of  antiquity  exist;  and  if  only  the  magic 
power  of  the  archaeologic  restorer  were  at  work,  the 
old  Baptistery  might  again  appear.  But  few  of  these 
edifices  have  endured. 

Those  of  Aix  and  of  Fr^jus  and  even  that  of  the 
tower  of  Viviers  seem  but  a  part,  a  chapel  as  it  were, 


'looking  out  over  a  sunlit  land  and  across  the  city  s  roofs  to 

THE  hills  of  AUVERGNE." LE  PUY. 


43 


Le  Puy.  45 

of  their  Cathedrals;  those  of  Riez  and  of  Poitiers  seem 
isolated  from  the  appropriate  churchly  surroundings. 
It  is  scarcely  possible  for  the  layman  to  see  the  archi- 
tectural possibilities  of  the  weather-beaten,  distorted, 
and  bedaubed  Baptistery  of  Le  Puy,  to  take  real 
pleasure  in  its  exploration,  or  to  foretell  that  it  would 
have  an  interest  as  great  as  the  classic  charm  of  Riez, 
as  notable  as  that  of  the  Temple  of  Saint  John  of 
Poitiers,  which  the  reverend  P^re  de  la  Croix  believes 
to  be  the  most  ancient  Christian  edifice  in  France. 
But  whatever  its  comparative  significance,  its  impor- 
tance is  marked,  for  it  is  situated  in  the  midst  of  a 
notable  congregation  of  churchly  edifices  and  its 
restoration  would  add  in  no  minor  degree  to  the 
completeness  of  the  group. 

Leaving  the  Baptistery,  with  small  expectation  of 
seeing  this  restoration,  the  traveller  went  back  to 
explore  the  nooks  and  comers  of  the  Cathedral  itself. 
To  walk  through  the  aisles  of  this  church,  tourist- 
fashion,  in  one  portal  and  out  another,  is  to  gain  an 
even  more  imperfect  notion  of  the  church  than  is 
usually  acquired  in  hasty  visits  to  ancient  places.  In 
the  upper  stories  of  the  lantern  where  the  sculpture  is 
ineffably  rich  and  the  structural  scheme  as  interesting; 
about  the  organ  where  the  walls  are  covered  with 
curious  frescoes;  in  the  second  story  of  the  other 
transept  across  the  choir;  in  the  abandoned  chapel  of 
the  Bishops;  and  in  many  another  corner;  there  are 
rare  details   and  beautiful   "things  to  see."     In  the 


46 


Auvergne. 


"maitrise"  there  is  a  notably  original  and  artistic 
chimney.  The  Sacristy  contains  a  rare  manuscript, 
an  early  Bible,  dramatic  scenes  carved  in  rich,  dark 
wood,  and,  besides  many  lesser  treasures,  the  slipper 
of  the  Virgin  and  two  of  the  angelic  candles. 

Passing  from  the  Sacristy  to  the  tower,  one  sees 


"a  soul  in  purgatory  earnestly  imploring  the  aid  of  the  virgin 
and  child." le  puv. 


true  Roman  remains,  fragments  of  spirited  pagan 
sculpture  incrusted  in  Christian  walls  and  actually 
aiding  in  the  support  of  the  church.  From  this  ap- 
parently fortuitous  use  of  old  materials  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  the  numerous  ruins  and  rare  bits  of  antique 


ITS  FINELY  CUT  AND  CHISELLED  SHAFTS;       .       .       .         ITS  STRENGTH  OF  FORM 
AND  EXQUISITE  YET  VIGOROUS  DETAILS." LE  PUY. 


47 


Le  Puy.  49 

monuments  which  were  thickly  scattered  over  mediaeval 
France,  and  the  all-pervading  influence  which,  until 
the  beginning  of  the  XII  century,  Gallo-Roman  art 
exercised  by  the  very  insistence  of  its  presence. 

The  seven -storied  tower  that  rises  just  beyond  the 
walls  in  which  these  vestiges  of  ancient  sculpture  are 
found  suggests  very  different  recollections.  Its  lowest 
compartment  was  used  as  a  burial  chapel  and  con- 
tains one  of  the  quaintest  sculptured  conceits  of  the 
Cathedral, — a  soul  in  purgatory  earnestly  imploring 
the  aid  of  the  Virgin  and  Child. 

In  form,  the  tower  is  a  charming  campanile,  almost 
independent  of  the  church  itself.  In  the  period  of  its 
construction  it  had  practical  as  well  as  artistic  pur- 
poses. The  Bishops  of  Le  Puy  were  temporal  lords, 
and  their  tower  which  loomed  over  the  country  was 
not  alone  a  reminder  of  religion,  it  spoke  as  eloquently, 
Viollet-le-Duc  tells  us,  of  the  prelates'  rank  and  impor- 
tance as  the  lofty,  battlemented  donjon  told  of  the  lay 
lord's  power.  It  was  also  a  belfry,  a  watch-tower,  and 
its  highest  story  is  a  sentinel's  lodge,  a  veritable  lookout. 
Here  the  mediaeval  sentinel  lived  on  guard.  It  was 
his  duty  to  ring  the  church-bells  or  to  blow  a  horn 
whenever  he  saw  a  fire  or  perceived  the  approach  of 
a  violent  storm  or  a  band  of  marauders.  He  signalled 
the  rising  of  the  sun,  and  the  opening  and  closing  of  the 
Cathedral's  portals;  and  he  doubtless  looked  often 
and  anxiously  towards  Polignac  where  the  faint  out- 
lines of  a  castle  rose  like  a  warning  phantom,  and  where 

VOL.    II. — 4. 


50  Auvergne. 

Princes,   chiefs  of  the  Routiers,   and  enemies  of  his 
Bishop  sometimes  hved. 

Another  structure  which  combined  a  religious  and  a 
defensive  character  is  the  machicolated  building  which 
stands  against  the  Cathedral's  northern  wall.  Within, 
its  ecclesiastical  purposes  are  evident.  The  great 
vaulted  hall,  which  contains  the  famous  XI  century^ 
fresco  of  the  "Liberal  Arts, "  was  the  place  of  assembly 
of  the  Provincial  Estates  and  is  now  a  chapel.  With- 
out, the  important  military  intent  of  the  building 
alone  is  obvious.  It  could  accommodate  two  hundred 
men,  the  access  to  its  upper  battlements  was  difficult, 
it  had  apertures  where  missiles  and  boiling  oil  could  be 
thrown  on  besieging  foes,  and  was  generally  constructed 
with  all  the  strength  and  cunning  which  the  strategic 
architecture  of  the  XIII  century  had  devised.  Below 
this  fortified  hall,  completely  sheltered  and  protected, 
lies  the  quiet  Cloister,  as  strange  a  contrast  to  modem 
eyes  as  may  well  be  imagined,  and  one  equally  illus- 
trative of  the  Middle  Ages. 

This  Cloister  is  among  the  most  ancient  that  now 
exist  in  France.  In  order  to  keep  out  the  Auvergnat 
winds  and  the  hot  summer  sun  it  was  made  very  low 
and  rather  broad,  which  increases  the  appearance  of 
solidity  native  to  the  Romanesque;  and  this  massive- 
ness  is  accentuated  still  more  by  the  heavy  carving  of 
the  capitals,  the  weighty  piers,  and  the  general  colour- 
ing of  the  basaltic  building-stone.  The  walks  are 
rather   plain,    suggestive   of    the   austerities    of     the 


2:    -T^ 


51 


Le  Puy. 


53 


religious  liie,  and  beneath  the  Cloister-vaulting  the 
architectural  atmosphere  is  ascetic.  It  is  from  the 
narrow  pathways  of  the  little  close  that  the  real  beauty 
of   the   Cloister   appears.     Here   one   sees    the   little, 


"the  WALK       .        .        .     SUGGESTIVE  OF  THE  AUSTERITIES 
OF  THE  RELIGIOUS  LIFE." LE  PUY. 

rounded  columns  beautifully  supporting  both  an  outer 
and  a  deep-set  inner  arch:  the  shrubs  and  grass  and  the 
old  well  add  the  charm  of  picturesqueness,  and  the 
sombre  richness  of  the  original  browns  and  whites  of 


54 


Auvergne. 


the  colour-scheme  is  greatly  enhanced  by  the  reddish 
and  blackish  tones  of  the  inlaid  patterns  of  the  Cloister's 
external  walls.  The  church  has  a  strange  and  mystic 
atmosphere;  the  Cloister  has  as  mysterious  an  Orien- 


THE  CLOISTERS  OF  THE  PALACE  OF  "mONSEIGNEUR  OP 


talism — very  different  from  that  of  P^rigueux,  but  as 
marked,  as  illusive,  and  as  insistent. 

Nothing  can  speak  more  eloquently  of  the  power  and 
the  pride  of  the  great  churchly  nobles  than  the  group 


55 


:/ 


Le  Puy.  sy 

of  buildings  of  which  this  beautiful  Cloister  is  a  part. 
This  is  only  one  among  the  many  groups  which  for- 
merly existed  in  every  Cathedral-cit}^  of  France,  but 
it  is  one  of  the  few  that  has  endured  in  comparative 
perfection  to  modem  times.  Autun's  "claustral  city" 
has  almost  entirely  disappeared;  Clermont,  whose 
Bishops  were  princely  prelates,  bears  but  little  trace 
of  their  former  state;  the  other  Sees  of  Auvergne 
are  equally  denuded.  But  the  Episcopal  Palace, 
the  Capitulary  Chamber,  the  Hospital,  the  Tower, 
the  Baptistery,  and  the  Cathedral  of  Le  Puy  give  to  the 
world  of  to-day  a  clear  idea  of  the  actual  grandeur 
of  a  mediaeval  Bishopric.  Monseigneur  of  Le  Puy  was 
protector  of  the  Consular  city  whose  dark  and  tor- 
tuous streets  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  But  who  shall 
say  how  unlimited  was  his  power  in  the  smaller,  clerical 
city  which  lay  about  the  Cathedral,  on  the  crest  of  the 
rock?  This  was  the  abode  of  Churchmen,  the  resi- 
dence of  my  Lord  Bishop.  Where  its  streets  met  those 
of  the  lower  town  gates  were  hung,  and  at  night  every 
priest  was  commanded  to  be  within  the  churchly 
precincts,  the  gates  were  closed,  and  the  "city  of  the 
Lord  Bishop"  was  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 

"Although  the  earth  belongs  to  the  Lord  Who  made 
it,"  writes  the  good  Abbe  Peyron,  "there  are  chosen 
places  which  He  loves  .  .  .  above  others.  These 
places  are  generally  mountains.  .  .  .  David  .  .  .  cried 
'the  Lord  is  admirable  in  high  places!  Mirahilis  in 
altis  Dominus. '     It  is  in  truth  certain  that  the  cor- 


58  Auvergne. 

ruption  of  sin  attains  less  frequently  to  the  solitary 
heights  of  mountains  than  to  the  rest  of  the  earth.  .  .  . 
For  that  reason  the  Psalmist  cries,  '  Deus  .  .  .  in  altis 
habitat.  God  dwells  in  high  places.  Altitudines  mon- 
tium  ipsius  sunt — the  mountain- tops  are  His. '  " 

These  are  some  of  the  many  pious  reasons  which 
lead  the  Abbe  to  believe  that  Mount  Anis  was  as 
favoured  of  Divinity  as  tradition  relates.  Whether 
it  is  thus  scripturally  susceptible  of  proof  is  a  question 
beyond  the  province  of  a  traveller,  but  it  is  particu- 
larly interesting  from  two  very  different  points  of  view 
— its  natural  and  its  architectural  originality;  and  its 
significant  chapter  in  the  history  of  religious  life  and 
thought,  from  the  simple,  poetic  stories  of  early  Miracle 
and  early  Saint,  to  the  sacerdotal  magnificence  of 
those  who  followed  in  this  mountain  See  of 
Auvergne. 

To   place   Lyons   among   the   Auvergnat 
Xpons,  cities   is   an   historical   and   geographical 

error;  but  one  which  may  be,  perhaps 
sophistically,  condoned  by  the  fact  that 
none  of  the  great  French  provinces  can  claim  it,  that  it 
was  the  capital  of  the  little  Lyonnais  and  was  annexed 
with  this  small  territory  to  the  crownlands  of  France 
by  Saint  Louis  and  Philip  the  Fair,  and  because  it  is 
to-day  the  Mecca  of  all  Auvergnians.  They  may 
resign  themselves  if  they  seldom  or  never  see  Paris, 
the  resplendent  centre  of  their  universe,  but  they  are 


I  .1 

w  -  . 
i4    a 


59 


Lyons  6 1 

not  ready  to  die  until  they  shall  have  made  a  journey 
to  the  great  inland  metropolis  of  the  Rhone. 

From  the  hill  where  the  modem  Church  of  Fourviferes 
points  its  turrets  against  the  sky,  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
look  down  upon  Lyons.  Like  two  broad  silver  bands 
the  Rhone  and  the  Saone,  crossed  by  the  black  lines  of 
their  bridges,  flow  majestically  through  the  city,  join, 
and  wander  away  among  the  distant  fields;  and  beyond 
the  fields,  on  an  horizon  that  is  often  misty,  rise  the 
faint  outlines  of  the  distant  mountains. 

Looking  nearer,  on  the  banks  of  the  Saone,  are  seen 
the   smoke-stained  walls   of   the  Cathedral   of   Saint- 
Jean-Baptiste.      The    ecclesiastical    atmosphere     and 
quiet  of  this  archiepiscopal  quarter  of  the  city,  although 
less   marked    in   these   days    of   anti-clericalism,    still 
persists,  and  has  been  described  by  the  inimitable  pen 
of  Daudet.     There   is,   he  writes,    "the  Archbishop's 
Palace,  the  seminaries,   the  continual  sound  of  bells 
in  the  tranquil  streets,  deserted  squares  traversed  at 
the  hours  of  Offices  by  long  files  of  surpliced  seminarists, 
and  the  little  clerks  of  the  singing-school  who  pass 
gravely  by,   their  arms   crossed  under  their  ermine- 
trimmed   capes,   letting  their  long  trains   trail  along 
the  pavement.     This  part  of  Lyons  reminded  me  of 
parts  of  Rome.     Behind  it,  steep  alleyways  mounted 
to  Fourvi^res  between  the  walls  of  convents,  the  gar- 
dens of  communities,  portals  surmounted  by  the  Cross, 
and  chapels  whose  bells  were  carolling  in  the  midst 
of    trees.      One    met    the    processions    of    parishes, 


62  Auvergne. 

confraternities  bound  on  pilgrimage  wound  about  the 
twisting  streets  like  a  long  white  or  blue  ribbon,  with 
spreading  veils,  waving  banners  and  capes,  and  the 
glitter  of  motionless  Crosses  struck  by  rays  of  light." 

An  older  writer,  Lamartine,  can  well  add  to  this  de- 
scription. **The  city,  too  crowded  by  its  .  .  .  rivers, 
has  leaped  the  .  .  .  boundary,  and  has,  as  it  were, 
overflowed  the  peninsula.  ...  Its  Cathedral,  its 
courts,  and  its  most  quiet  streets  are  .  .  .  pressed 
between  the  mountains  and  the  Saone.  Streets  rise 
on  the  slopes  like  ladders.  The  houses  seem  to  climb 
the  rocks  and  to  hang  on  the  flanks  of  the  hill. "  These 
keen  French  appreciations  of  the  city  have  been  well 
condensed  by  an  Englishman  with  characteristic 
frugality  of  words.  "Old  and  picturesque  Lyons  lies 
along  the  banks  of  the  Saone;  modem  and  featureless 
Lyons  on  that  of  the  Rhone. " 

In  spite  of  this  purely  modem  and  purely  mediaeval 
atmosphere,  the  city  is  of  a  much  more  remote  an- 
tiquity. Its  site  at  the  angle  of  the  two  rivers  seems 
to  have  been  always  a  sacred  spot,  a  place  of  oinens. 
Druidical  rites  were  celebrated  here;  nearly  six  hundred 
years  before  Christ,  Greeks,  expelled  from  the  Midi, 
chose  this  situation  for  their  new  home.  The  Romans 
settled  on  the  hill  of  Fourvi^res;  Augustus  Caesar  lived 
on  the  hill  for  three  years,  and  there  "the  hundred 
tribes  of  Gaul"  raised  an  altar  or  a  Temple  to  his 
imperial  godliness.  Germanicus,  Marcus  Aurelius, 
CaracaUa,  and  Ambrose  of   Milan  were  bom   in  the 


Lyons.  6  3 

Gallo-Roman  city,  and  Caligula  endowed  it  with  those 
fearful  contests  of  eloquence  to  which  Juvenal  alludes : 

Turns  pale  as  one  who  has  trod  with  naked  heel  upon  a  snake, 
Or  is  about  to  recite  his  rhetorical  discourse  at  Lyons. 

Well  might  those  who  entered  the  imperial  lists  * '  turn 
pale,"  for  the  unsuccessful  speaker  either  "effaced 
his  oration  with  his  tongue"  or  was  drowned  in  the 
waters  of  the  Rhone. 

Celebrations,  contests,  and  great  names  evoke  pic- 
tures of  ancient  splendours;  but  beneath  this  pagan 
magnificence,  underground,  literally  as  well  as  figura- 
tively, the  new  motive  power  of  Europe,  the  Christian 
Church,  was  growing.  The  Bible  history  ends  before 
the  period  of  general  European  conversion  to  the  Faith, 
before  the  violent  persecutions  of  the  Emperors  had 
begun;  and  its  continuation,  the  history  of  the  church, 
is  related  by  "letters"  of  greater  or  less  authenticity. 
Among  these,  none  are  more  touching,  simple,  and  holy 
in  spirit  than  the  "Epistle  of  the  Churches  of  Vienne 
and  Lyons  to  the  Brethren  in  Asia  and  Phrygia. "  It 
shows,  too,  how  general  in  conformity  was  the  whole 
Roman  Empire  and  how  imperial  in  atmosphere  and  in 
mentality  the  great  cities  of  Gaul  had  become.  It  is 
strangely  interesting  to  bridge  the  very  usual  gulf 
between  the  lifetime  of  Christ  and  the  Twelve  Apostles 
and  the  emergence  of  the  Established  Church  into 
history. 

"The  holy  Pothinus,  Bishop  of  Lyons,"  writes  this 


64  Auvergne. 

moving  chronicle,  "upwards  of  ninety  years  old  and 
very  infinn,  .  .  .  yet  strong  in  spirit  and  longing  for 
martyrdom,  was  dragged  before  the  tribunal,  his  body 
indeed  being  worn  out  by  age  and  disease,  but  his  soul 
one  through  which  the  cause  of  Christ  would  triumph. 

"Borne  by  the  soldiers  to  the  tribunal,  and  accom- 
panied by  the  magistrates  and  all  the  multitude  shout- 
ing against  him  as  if  he  were  Christ  Himself,  he  made 
a  good  confession  of  faith.  Being  asked  by  the  govern- 
or, '  who  was  the  God  of  the  Christians, '  he  answered, 
'  If  ye  are  worthy,  ye  shall  know. '  Then  he  was 
mercilessly  dragged  about  and  suffered  a  variety  of  ill- 
treatment;  those  who  were  nearest  insulted  him  with 
their  hands  and  feet,  without  the  least  respect  to  his 
age;  and  those  at  a  distance  threw  at  him  whatever 
came  to  hand.  Everyone  looked  upon  himself  as 
deficient  in  zeal  if  he  did  not  insult  him  in  some  way  or 
other;  for  thus  they  imagined  that  they  avenged  the 
cause  of  their  gods.  He  was  almost  lifeless  'when  he 
was  thrown  into  prison,  and  after  two  days  he  expired. 

' '  An  extra  day  of  the  Show  being  given  to  the  people 
on  our  account,  Maturis  and  Sanctus  again  underwent 
various  tortures  in  the  amphitheatre,  as  if  they  had 
suffered  nothing  before.  They  sustained  again,  as 
they  were  led  to  the  amphitheatre,  the  blows  usually 
inflicted  on  those  condemned  to  wild  animals;  they 
were  exposed  to  be  dragged  and  torn  by  the  beasts, 
and  to  all  the  barbarities  which  the  savage  populace 
demanded;  above  all  to  the  hot  iron  chair,  in  which 


Lyons.  65 

their  bodies  were  roasted.  Nor  was  this  all, — the 
persecutors  raged  still  more,  if  possible,  to  conquer 
their  endurance.  But  not  a  word  could  be  extorted 
from  Sanctus  except  that  of  confession,  which  he  had 
at  first  uttered;  and,  after  lingering  a  long  time,  they 
at  length  expired,  having  presented  a  spectacle  to  the 
world  equal  in  variety  to  that  which  is  usual  in 
gladiatorial  fights. 

"Meantime  Blandina,  bound  to  a  stake,  was  also 
exposed  to  the  wild  beasts.  She  was  bound  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  and  employed  herself  in  ardent  prayer. 
None  of  the  beasts  at  that  time  touched  her,  so  "she 
was  taken  down  from  the  stake  and  thrown  again  into 
prison,  to  be  reserved  for  a  future  contest.  .  .  .  On 
the  last  day  of  the  Show  she  was  brought  in  again  with 
Ponticus,  a  boy  of  fifteen  who  had  daily  been  brought 
with  her  to  behold  the  sufferings  of  the  rest.  They 
were  commanded  to  swear  by  the  idols,  and  when 
the  mob  saw  that  they  remained  firm  and  despised 
their  threats,  their  fury  was  so  excited  that  no  mercy 
was  shown  either  to  the  sex  of  the  one  or  the  youth 
of  the  other.  Their  sufferings  were  increased  by  every 
imaginable  torture,  the  whole  chapter  of  agony  was 
exhausted,  but  all  was  powerless  to  move  them.  Pon- 
ticus, encouraged  by  his  sister  to  the  end,  at  length  gave 
up  his  spirit. 

"Then  the  blessed  Blandina,  the  last  of  all,  having, 
like  a  mother,  exhorted  her  children  and  sent  them 
before  her  victorious  into  the  presence  of  the  King, 


66  Auvergne. 

having  watched  over  all  their  sufferings,  prepared  for 
the  pains  of  death  herself,  rejoicing  as  one  going  to  a 
marriage  feast,  not  as  one  to  be  devoured  by  wild 
beasts.  Having  endured  scourging,  the  tearing  of  the 
beasts,  and  the  iron  chair,  she  was  enclosed  in  a  net 
and  thrown  to  a  bull,  when  after  having  been  long 
tossed  by  the  animal,  raised  beyond  pain  through  the 
power  of  hope  and  realisation  of  her  fellowship  with 
Christ,  she  at  last  expired.  Even  her  enemies  con- 
fessed that  no  woman  had  ever  before  shown  such 
endurance." 

"From  the  blood  of  these  martyrs,"  writes  Martin, 
"new  churches  were  bom;  and  the  Church  of  Lyons 
remained  the  Metropolis  of  all  these  Christian  societies." 

This  congregation,  founded  by  the  blood  of  martyrs, 
was  very  different  from  that  of  the  Dark  Ages  and  its 
picture  of  apostolic  simplicity  was  replaced  by  one  of 
sacerdotal  magnificence  when,  in  the  XI  century, 
Burchard  II,  Archbishop  of  Lyons,  Primate  of  all 
Gaul,  usurped  the  temporal  power  and  became,  in 
actual  if  not  undisputed  fact,  the  sovereign  of  the  city. 

Theocratic  feudalism  was  often  no  less  imperious  than 
aristocratic  feudalism,  and  in  Lyons  it  became  a  period 
of  open  wars  and  secret  plots  between  the  Counts  of 
Forez,  the  former  lords  of  the  city  who  still  claimed 
to  be  its  rulers,  the  Archbishops  who  were  its  actual 
masters,  and  the  burghers  who  desired  independence. 
It  was  during  this  epoch  of  churchly  domination  that 
the  Gothic  Saint-Jean-Baptiste  was  begun,   and  the 


Lyons.  67 

Archbishop  removed  his  throne  from  the  humbler 
Cathedral  of  Saint-Etienne  to  the  newer  and  greater 
church. 

In  the  meantime,  there  were  incessant  civic  turmoils 
and  quarrels  which  continued  until  Saint  Louis  in 
1265  united  the  city  and  territory  of  Lyons  to  the 
crown.  His  grandson,  Philip  the  Fair,  who  humbled 
the  Papacy,  found  no  difficulty  in  taking  the  right  of 
"secular  justice"  from  the  hands  of  Peter  of  Savoy, 
a  mere  Archbishop;  the  burghers  of  the  city  obtained 
the  recognition  of  their  communal  rights;  and  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  freedom  of  the  whole  Catholic 
Church  was  menaced  in  the  Cathedral  of  Lyons  when, 
in  1305,  Bertrand  de  Goth  was  crowned  Pope,  and  in 
13 16  the  luxurious  Jacques  d'Euse  of  Cahors  became 
his  successor  as  John  XXII,  Vicar  of  Christ  on  this 
poor  earth. 

With  its  communal  liberties  established,  the  com- 
merce and  manufactures  of  the  Lyonnais  began  to 
flourish.  Many  Italian  families,  forced  by  civil  wars 
to  emigrate,  brought  with  them  the  secrets  of  silk- 
weaving.  Fairs,  those  Expositions  of  mediaeval  days, 
instituted  in  Lyons  by  Charles  VII,  were  cleverly 
organised  by  Louis  XI  and  contributed  no  little  to  the 
city's  prosperity.  By  its  growing  industries,  its  printing 
houses,  hat  manufactories,  tanneries,  its  silk-making, 
and  weaving  of  the  costly  cloth  of  gold,  it  has  risen 
to  its  present  importance. 

"No  city,"  writes  Hare,  "has  changed  its  politics 


68  Auvergne. 

so  often,  no  city  has  been  more  ready  to  take  a  part 
in  every  possible  revolution."  Following  the  struggle 
between  rulers  and  people  came  the  religious  strife 
which  culminated  after  the  Massacre  of  Saint  Bartholo- 
mew, w^hen,  in  a  spirit  of  emulation,  the  Faithful  of  the 
city  killed  a  thousand  Huguenots.  Uprisings  of  hungry 
work-people  and  political  insurrections  which  followed 
along  the  years,  together  with  as  many  inundations  of 
the  Saone  and  the  Rhone,  have  at  times  brought  the 
city  almost  to  ruin,  and  its  revolt  against  the  revo- 
lutionary Convention  almost  cost  its  existence.  "The 
name  of  Lyons  can  no  longer  endure,"  said  Barreme, 
the  Consul,  "you  will  call  it  Ville-Aff ranch ie,  and  on  the 
ruins  of  this  infamous  city  a  monument  will  be  raised 
which  will  attest  the  crime  and  the  punishment  of  the 
enemies  of  liberty.  One  word  will  tell  the  tale,  '  Lyons 
warred  against  liberty.     Lyons  exists  no  more.'  " 

"To  fulfil  this  terrible  anathema  the  Committee 
of  Public  Safety  sent  Fouch^,  an  unfrocked  priest,  .  .  . 
a  fanatical  imbecile,  Couthon,  and  an  actor  who  longed 
to  be  revenged  upon  the  Lyonnais  for  the  hisses  with 
which  they  had  justly  received  him."  Couthon,  who 
was  a  paralytic,  was  carried  in  state  to  the  largest 
square  of  the  city  and  there,  with  a  terrific  blow^  of  a 
hammer,  he  gave  the  signal  for  the  general  demolition. 

The  work  of  destruction  began.  Every  day  fifty 
or  sixty  citizens  were  shot  or  guillotined,  and  the 
vengeful  actor  conceived  terrible  projects  for  the 
explosive   ruination   of   buildings.     But    Robespierre, 


'THIS    FACADE    IS    HEAVY    AND    BROAD    WITH    THREE    LARGE    PORTALS  AXD 
A    POINTED    TERMINATING    GABLE." LYONS 

69 


Lyons.  7 1 

the  patron  of  horrors,  fell;  and  in  spite  of  many  suc- 
ceeding dangers,  the  invasion  of  foreigners,  the  White 
Terror,  and  political  andindustrial  uprisings,  Lyons  still 
consistently  upholds  its  supremacy  among  the  towns 
of  France. 

After  the  city's  union  with  the  kingdom  and  its 
ostensible  political  independence  of  the  Church,  the 
history  of  the  See  was  not  so  closely  interwoven  with 
civic  affairs.  The  building  of  the  Cathedral  was  quietly 
continued  when  ambition  or  funds  permitted.  The 
XIV  century  gave  the  great  facade,  two  bays  of  the 
nave,  and  the  western  rose;  an  hundred  years  later 
there  came  the  addition  of  towers  and  chapels  and 
minor  decorations;  and  in  later  times  there  have  been 
restorations,  new  chapels,  and  less  important  details. 

Although  the  Archbishop's  political  prestige  had 
dwindled,  he  was  still  a  great  ecclesiastical  personage, 
"a  Primate,"  and  his  church  grew  in  architectural 
beauty  and  was  the  scene  of  many  pompous  ceremonials. 
As  the  traveller  wandered  down  from  the  heights  of 
Fourvieres,  he  thought  of  one  event  which  had  taken 
place  there,  the  marriage  of  the  great  Henry  of  Navarre 
with  the  orthodox  and  stupid  Marie  de  Medicis.  His 
first  marriage  with  the  not  less  orthodox  but  far  less 
devout  Marguerite  of  Valois  took  place  at  Notre-Dame 
of  Paris;  but  Henry  the  heretic  could  be  married  only 
before  the  door  of  the  church  and  wandered  discon- 
solately in  the  Cloisters  while  his  gay  bride  entered  for 
the  Mass. 


72  Auvergne. 

Years  later,  Henr^''  the  converted,  at  heart  no  Cath- 
oUc  and  in  life  a  less  admirable  man,  was  received  be- 
fore the  High  Altar  of  Saint- Jean-Baptiste  by  the 
Cardinal-Legate  in  richest  vestments,  his  Italian  bride 
was  led  by  the  most  orthodox  Prince  de  Conti  and  the 
most  Catholic  Duke  de  Montpensier;  not  only  the 
Legate,  but  three  other  Cardinals  were  happ}'  to  aid 
in  the  performance  of  the  ceremony,  while  all  the 
assembly  knew  that  the  beautiful  Henriette  d'Etranges, 
Marquise  de  Vemeuil,  was  assisting  scornfully  at  the 
Mass  and  saying  in  her  heart,  "So  this  is  the  fat 
bankeress  from  Florence!" 

Musing  on  these  little  ironies  of  human  nature,  the 
traveller  crossed  the  bridge  to  the  Church  of  Saint- 
Nizier  which  has  the  name  and  site  and  cr^-pt  of  the 
first  Cathedral  of  Lyons.  Here  is  a  Gothic  building 
of  the  XIV  century  which  preserves,  in  memor}'  of  its 
predecessor's  rank,  only  the  name  of  Saint-Nizier,  the 
saintly  Archbishop  of  the  VI  centur>^  and  the  restored, 
modernised  chapel  where  electric  lights  chase  away  the 
memories  of  its  early,  struggling  Christianity  which  grew 
in  the  shadows  and  dampness  of  the  ancient  crypt. 

The  Church  of  Saint-Etienne,  the  second  Cathedral 
of  Lyons,  which  succeeded  Saint-Nizier,  was  destroyed 
in  1796.  The  traveller  therefore  retraced  his  steps, 
recrossed  the  bridge,  and  came  to  Saint- Jean-Baptiste, 
the  third  and  last  edifice  to  bear  the  archiepiscopal 
title,  a  dark  building  which  in  its  architecture  tx^ifies 
the  spirit  of  mediaeval  Christianity. 


Lyons.  73 

Two  dark,  low  towers  and  the  apse  are  turned  towards 
the  river;  the  lateral  walls  of  the  church,  with  un- 
beautiful  flying  buttresses,  are  almost  hidden  by 
buildings;  and  the  western  front,  which  is  also  flanked 
by  two  low  towers,  faces  an  open  square.  This  facade 
is  heavy  and  broad  with  three  large  portals,  most 
terrifying  gargoyles,  and  a  pointed,  terminating  gable. 
It  was  once  very  lavishly  ornamented;  and  even  now, 
although  many  statues  are  gone,  much  fine  carving 
remains.  "The  pedestals  of  the  lacking  statues," 
writes  Liibke,  "are  adorned  with  a  number  of  charming 
reliefs  in  medallions,  full  of  life,  and  embracing  an 
inconceivable  variety  of  .  .  .  different  subjects.  Here 
are  all  kinds  of  symbolical  scenes,  such  as  the  peli- 
can feeding  her  young  with  her  own  blood;  fantastic 
scenes  of  the  most  different  kinds.  Sirens  playing  on 
organs,  contests  between  dragons  and  fabulous  crea- 
tures; scenes  also  from  animal  life,  such  as  the  stork 
drawing  the  bone  from  the  fox's  throat;  and  a  number 
of  representations  from  the  life  of  Christ,  the  martyr- 
dom of  the  Apostles,  and  similar  subjects.  In  the 
archivolts  there  are  numerous  small,  seated  figures, 
similarly  fine  and  pure  in  st^de. "  How  many  who  have 
seen  this  heavy  fagade  have  noticed  these  details? 
Even  a  careful  visitor  is  often  too  cursory;  for  much 
time  may  be  spent  where  so  much  labour  and  talent 
were  freely  given;  and  even  the  nooks  and  comers  and 
tiny  bits  of  carving  of  this  ponderous  whole  are  beauti- 
ful and  interesting  studies.     It  is  strange  that  among 


74 


Auvergne. 


all  the  favoiirite  arts  of  little  things,  the  mania  for  the 
small,  the  "antique,"  there  is  so  little  interest  in  the 
different  kinds  of  stone  medallions,  for  those  of  Amiens, 
Reims,  Lyons,  and  others  portray,  better  than  many 
a  learned  treatise,  the  intelligence,  ignorance,  and 
imagination  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  interior  of  the  Cathedral  has  three  aisles,  three 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  WINDOWS  AND  ARCADES  OF  THE  TRANSEPT — LYONS, 


apses,  side-chapels,  and  transepts.  "A  singular  mix- 
ture of  local  Pointed  styles  is  shown,"  writes  Hunne- 
well,  and  there  are  also  many  traces  of  the  Romanesque, 
but  the  general  effect  is  triumphantly  Gothic.  The 
nave,  which  is  more  than  an  hundred  feet  high,  has 
very  tall  arches,  columns  whose  delicate  capitals  are 


THE    CATHEDRAL        HAS    THE    STATELY    ECCLESIASTICISM    WHICH    WAS    AN 
IDEAL    OF    THE    MIDDLE    AGES." LYONS. 


75 


/  m 


Lyons.  77 

charmingly  and  moderately  ornamented,  and  above, 
beautiful  Gothic  windows  which  form  a  high  clerestory . 
The  arches  of  the  nave  have  very  peaked  points,  those 
of  the  transepts  are  less  sharply  pointed,  and  those  of 
the  choir  are  round.  This  part  of  the  church  is  lower 
and  much  more  primitive  in  form  than  the  nave. 
It  was  too  small  for  the  exigencies  of  the  ritual  and  its 
size  was  artificially  increased  by  the  enclosing  of  two 
bays  of  the  main  body  of  the  church;  and,  to  hide  the 
difference  in  height,  a  narrow  wall  decorated  with 
stained-glass  windows  was  built  to  extend  from  the 
vaulting  of  the  nave  to  the  lower  vaulting  of  the  choir. 

Saint-Jean-Baptiste  has  a  curious  detail,  one  of  the 
old  clocks  which  used  to  delight  our  ancestors;  it  has 
also,  at  the  ends  of  the  High  Altar,  two  processional 
Crosses,  melancholy  signs  of  a  proposed  union  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Churches,  which  the  great  Ecumenical 
Council  of  1274  met  in  Lyons  to  bring  about  and  failed 
to  accomplish.  Another  interesting  object  which 
might  be  called  a  "detail"  of  Saint- Jean  is  the  Mane- 
canterie,  a  small,  adjoining  building  whose  curious 
Romanescjue  fagade  has  been  defaced  by  the  Huguenots 
and  poor  restorations.  This  building  belonged  to  the 
singing-school  of  the  Cathedral,  it  was  the  Singers' 
House,  a  place  of  strict  training,  reminiscent  of  Daudet's 
pen-picture  and  of  the  famous  chapelle  whose 
singing,  like  that  of  the  first  ages  of  Christianity,  was 
w^ithout  books,  or  organ,  or  any  other  instrument. 

The  most  interesting  chapels  of  the  Cathedral  are 


jS  Auvergne. 

those  of  Saint-Pien-e,  north  of  the  choir,  which  is 
Romanesque,  a  relic  of  the  church's  beginnings,  and 
that  of  the  Bourbons,  so  called  because  it  was  built  by 
a  Cardinal  of  that  House  and  by  his  brother,  Pierre 
de  Beaujeu,  son-in-law  of  Louis  XL  This  chapel, 
which  is  dedicated  to  Saint-Louis,  is  the  antithesis 
of  the  strong,  plain  old  Romanesque  of  Saint-Pierre. 
Its  luxuriant  ornamentation  has  most  remarkable, 
most  extraordinary  precision  and  delicacy,  and  its 
rich,  dark  stained-glass  windows  cast  over  its  graceful 
carvings  a  wonderful,  dim  light. 

This  is  the  most  artistically  beautiful  comer  of  the 
Cathedral,  but  the  general  view  of  the  great  nave  is 
much  simpler  and  more  majestic.  The  front  doors 
are  too  often  open  and  let  in  the  hard,  glaring  sunlight 
which  is  so  destructive  to  the  harmony  of  the  Gothic's 
majestic,  solemn  calm.  To  be  appreciated  the  nave 
should  be  seen  on  the  rare  occasions  when  the  portals 
are  closed.  Then,  standing  in  the  choir  and  looking 
down  the  aisle,  one  sees  the  church  in  the  richness  of 
its  red-brown  stone,  the  fine  moderation  of  its  carvings, 
the  dignity  of  its  lines,  and  the  loftiness  of  its  height. 
The  Cathedral  is  not  religious  in  the  solemn  manner  of 
Clermont,  but  it  is  more  than  merely  artistic;  it  has 
the  stately  ecclesiasticism  which  was  an  ideal  of  the 
•Middle  Ages;  and  not  only  its  more  beautiful  interior 
but  its  sturdy,  blackened,  old  walls  stand  as  an  ex- 
ample of  protest  to  the  modem  worthlessness  of  the 
architecture  of  Notre-Dame-de-Fourvi^res. 


Aquitaine. 


■P«aysw»'- 


JoaBa 


"  What  must  have  been  the  effect 
of  this  glorious  white  church  upon 
the  mediaeval  beholder  who  saw  it 
rise  above  the  Isle  with  its  one,  ex- 
quisite tower,  its  great  cupolas,  and 
its  delicate,  little  minarets  ?" 

Pdrigueux. 


AQUITAINE. 

Lying  in  a  flat  country,  Moulins-on-the- 
/IDOUlins  AUier  was  a  quiet,  unimportant  little 
bourg  during  the  Middle  Ages.  In  the 
XIII  and  XIV  centuries  it  acquired  a 
certain  dignity  as  the  residence  of  the  rich  and  powerful 
Dukes  of  the  Bourbonnais;  but  when,  in  1628,  the 
Constable  de  Bourbon  became  a  traitor,  his  tiny,  con- 
fiscated Duchy  was  submerged  in  the  great  "crown 
lands"  and  Moulins,  shorn  of  its  temporary  rank, 
sank  again  into  quiet  insignificance  until  1822,  when 
it  reached  a  new  era  of  importance  and  became  a 
Cathedral-city. 

Moulins  has  not  been  invaded  by  any  of  the  nerve- 
racking  bustle  of  the  age.  It  has  neither  the  sordidness 
of  industrial  centres  nor  the  ostentation  of  great  wealth. 
Nature  has  not  made  it  picturesque  and  it  has  no 
handsome  modernity.  Its  atmosphere  is  that  of  a 
large,  contented  country  town  to  which  episcopal  rank 
has  lent  a  gentle  dignity.  Yet  Moulins  has  achieved 
that  which  gives  it  a  real  claim  to  distinction.  In 
these  days  when  churches  are  built  which  suggest 
either  a  bam  or  a  theatre  rather  than  a  House  of  God, 
this  small  city  in  the  heart  of  rural  France  has  suc- 
ceeded in  constructing  two  religious  edifices,  worthy 
examples   of   the  eminent  styles  they  reproduce,  and 

VOL.  II. 6  81 


82  Aquitaine. 

which  recall,  as  do  "the  heavens"  in  the  Psalmist's 
song,  "the  glory  of  God. "  These  are  the  Church  of  the 
Sacr^-Coeur  and  the  nave  of  the  newly  constituted 
Cathedral-church . 

In  1839  Prosper  Mdrimde  wrote  in  his  report  to  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior  that  "the  Cathedral  of  Moulins 
.  .  .  consists  only  of  an  exceedingly  small  choir. ' '  Less 
than  fifty  years  later  "the  exceedingly  small  choir" 
was  preceded  by  a  nave,  and  to-day  the  Cathedral 
of  Moulins  is  practically  completed.  It  stands  in  the 
most  interesting  part  of  the  city,  near  the  Pavilion 
of  Madame  Anne  de  Beaujeu,  near  the  castle  with  its 
donjon,  and  near  many  quaint  old  houses. 

In  itself  it  is  an  intricate  and  beautiful  problem. 
For  the  nave  is  Gothic  of  the  XIII  century,  the  choir 
is  Flamboyant;  the  stones  of  the  former  are  white  and 
black,  used  in  the  Auvergnat  manner,  the  latter  is 
built  entirely  of  rich  brown  stone  that  has  a  wann  pink 
tone;  and  this  juxtaposition  was  willed  by  Viollet-le- 
Duc,  a  modem  master  in  architecture. 

Both  exteriors,  the  apse  and  the  nave,  are  fine  rather 
than  beautiful  in  conception.  The  apse  is  curiously 
planned  but  simply  carried  out.  The  first  story,  sur- 
mounted by  a  gallery,  is  square;  the  second  story,  also 
surmounted  by  a  gallery,  is  curved  after  the  usual 
fashion  of  apses;  and  above,  is  the  huge  peak  of  the 
roof  with  its  gabled  windows.  Considering  its  late 
period,  these  walls  are  by  no  means  overweighted  with 
ornamentation.     They  have  gracefully  canopied  niches 


1 

y 

1 

i 

liilg 

nH 

THE  NAVE  OF  THE  NEWLY  CONSTITUTED  CATHEDRAL." MOULINS. 


83 


Moulins.  85 

whose  statues  have  disappeared,  and  a  small,  modest 
portal.  Both  stories  hold  the  traceries  of  their  large 
windows,  both  are  surmounted  by  carved  balustrades. 
Short  fl3''ing  buttresses,  falling  from  the  height 
of  the  wall,  rest  on  the  roofing  of  the  first  stage, 
and  their  tiny,  double  balustrades  and  profusion  of 
pinnacles  form  the  most  luxuriant  decoration  of  the 
apse. 

It  is  not  only  in  colour  but  in  height  and  general 
proportion  that  this  old  apse  forms  a  great  contrast 
to  the  newer  nave;  and  although  too  great  uniformity 
is  no  doubt  monotonous,  in  these  differences  the  new 
walls  suffer  the  odium  of  the  comparison,  their  roofs 
are  lower,  their  windows  less  graceful,  their  buttresses 
angular,  and  all  their  lines  are  stiff. 

The  original  style  chosen  by  the  architect  is  un- 
doubtedly superior  to  the  tertiary  Gothic  of  the  XV 
century  apse,  but  in  his  adaptation  there  is  too -much 
science  and  too  little  inspiration,  too  much  obvious, 
geometric  precision;  and  the  hard  blacks  and  whites — 
a  combination  of  stone  foreign  to  the  Gothic — accentu- 
ates this  severity  of  line.  The  fagade  of  the  church 
is  of  the  same  scientific  exactitude;  but  it  is  further 
removed  from  the  warmer,  richer  apse  and  the  con- 
trast is  not  so  obvious;  its  parvise  and  deep  porches, 
its  large  wall  pierced  by  the  conventional  rose-window, 
and  above  all,  its  tall  spires,  have  generous  architectural 
lines  which  are  imposing  in  spite  of  the  persistent 
angularity.     Its  sculptures,  too,  are  very  interesting; 


86 


Aquitaine. 


Saints  in  niches,  gargoyles,  heads,  beasts,  and  birds 
are  carved  with  more  care  than  is  usually  given  to  the 
details  of  a  modem  church. 


Before  this  facade  the  architect  has  placed,  with  a 
characteristic  historic  consciousness,  a  little  parvise, 
lower  than  the  level  of  the  street,  whose  entrance-posts 


Moulins. 


87 


have  places  for  lanterns  and  swinging  lights.  "It 
was  here,"  writes  VioUet-le-Duc  in  his  Dictionnaire 
raisonn^  de  V Architecture  "that  ladders  were  placed, 
on  which  priests 
who  had  scandal- 
ised the  city  by 
their  conduct  were 
exposed  in  pun- 
ishment ;  on  the 
stone  of  the  par- 
vise  certain  offend- 
ers made  amends 
for  their  sins;  it 
was  also  to  the 
parvise  that  relics 
were  brought  on 
certain  holydays, 
and  it  was  here 
that  the  lower 
orders  of  the  clergy 
stood  while  the 
Chapter  intoned 
the  Gloria  from 
the  heights  of  the 
exterior  gallerv." 
Many  Cathedrals, 
as  Notre-Dame  of 
Paris  and  Notre-Dame  of  Reims,  have  lost  their  old 
precincts,  and   it   is  pleasant  to    find    one    which,    if 


'the  cathedral  stands 
old  houses. "- 


.  NEAR  MANY 
-MOULINS. 


88  Aquitaine. 

itself  without  history,  suggests  many  of  the  quaint 
customs  of  a  half -forgotten  past. 

Beneath  the  porches  the  traveller  saw  paintings 
which  seemed  inappropriate  in  the  Gothic  tympanums, 
and  he  hurried  through  the  portal  to  the  contemplation 
of  the  juxtaposition  of  the  early  and  the  late  Gothic  of 
the  interior. 

Looking  down  the  central  nave  his  eye  was  immedi- 
ately arrested  by  a  huge  mass  of  gilt  which  rose  above 
the  High  Altar  with  the  barbaric  splendour  of  the 
Grand  Turk.  One  who  visits  old  Cathedrals  is  ac- 
customed to  incongruity  in  the  styles  of  their  furnish- 
ings, and  the  eye  is  quickly  trained  to  lose  these  un- 
pleasant details  in  the  beauty  of  the  whole.  But 
this  modem  canopy  is  not  a  detail,  it  is  a  terrible, 
monstrous  creation  which  defies  evasion  and  entirely 
spoils  the  long  perspective  of  the  nave. 

This  nave  is  very  beautiful,  very  much  more  beautiful 
than  its  outer  walls  presage.  Where  they  seem  the 
work  of  a  conscientious  copyist,  this  seems  an  inspired 
creation.  The  large,  pointed  arches,  rest  on  round, 
robust  pillars  which  end  in  four  carved  claws  that 
clutch  the  great  bases.  The  capitals,  carved  in  massive 
crockets,  support  not  only  the  nave  arches  but  a  cluster 
of  three  little  columns  which  rise  past  the  triforium 
to  carry  the  arches  of  the  vault.  Between  these 
clusters  are  the  two  upper  stories  of  the  Gothic  nave, 
the  triforium  with  its  slender  arches  and  columns,  and 
the  clerestory's  large,  twin  windows,  each  surmounted 


r 


«  > 
o 

< 


89 


Moulins.  91 

by  an  oculus.  The  hardness  of  the  greyish  stone  and 
the  pure  black  and  white  trimmings  is  softened  in  the 
mellow  light;  the  height  has  no  angular  proportions, 
and  the  lines  are  neither  prim  nor  sharph^  precise. 

Beyond  this  fine  nave,  seven  steps  lead  to  the  old 
Collegiale,  "the  exceedingly  small  choir."  Its  first 
stone  was  laid  on  the  fifth  of  August,  1468;  and  it  is, 
therefore,  writes  Desrosiers,  "of  the  last  Gothic  period 
.  .  .  and  nearly  contemporaneous  with  Saint-Nizier 
of  Lyons,  certain  parts  of  the  Cathedral  of  Limoges, 
and  of  the  Sainte-Chapelle  of  Riom;  .  .  .  and,  con- 
structed in  the  same  years  as  the  Sainte-Chapelle 
of  Bourbon,  it  was  probably  planned  by  the  same 
architect." 

The  tertiary  Gothic  period  was  that  of  the  old  age, 
often  of  the  senility  of  the  art;  and  it  has  become  the 
fashion  of  modem  masters  either  to  decry  all  its  works 
or  to  damn  them  with  faint  praise.  The}^  are  "charm- 
ing but  they  are  weak,"  "elegant  but  over-orna- 
mented";— ^for  every  excellence  a  defect  must  be 
found.  It  is  not  so  that  great  mountains  and  charm- 
ing little  hills  are  compared,  or  forest- trees  with  the 
shrubs  of  the  garden;  and  although  the  mountain  is 
more  inspiring  than  the  little  hill  and  the  forest- tree 
than  the  shrub  of  the  garden,  each  has  its  legitimate 
place  in  the  beneficent  scheme  of  Nature.  So  is  the 
Flamboyant  in  Gothic  Art.  In  its  decadent  forms, 
of  which  many  examples  exist,  it  has  all  the  foolish 
exuberance  and    weakness  of    degeneracy;  and  when 


g^  Aquitaine. 

looking  at  them  it  seems  as  if  one  must  see  the  good  old 
workman  who,  having  lost  his  wits,  sits  jabbering  in  a 
comer  as  he  carves  myriads  of  bits  of  stone,  building 
the  Gothic  church  of  a  crazed  fancy.  But  this  is  the 
deflorescence  of  the  Flamboyant,  as  seen  at  Haute- 
combe,  and  corresponds  with  the  mediocrity  of  the 
earlier  forms  which  is  so  often  seen  in  the  pitiful  Gothic 
of  Savoy.  In  its  most  ideal  expression  the  Flam- 
boyant has  as  many  beautiful  qualities  as  the  early 
Gothic;  for  grandeur  it  has  elegance,  for  majesty, 
lightness  and  grace,  for  pure  serenity,  exquisite  charm, 
instead  of  being  imposing  it  is  rich.  Its  nature  is  more 
expansive,  more  exuberant,  yet  it  can  be  artistically 
controlled  in  expression.  And  when  the  comparison 
is  made — the  inevitable  and  somewhat  futile  com- 
parison— the  decision  is,  in  final  analysis  a  matter  of 
preference,  of  taste. 

The  choir  of  Moulins  is  a  true  creation  of  the  Flam- 
boyant. Its  square  outer  walls  and  lateral  chapels 
give  space  and  breadth  to  the  ambulatory,  and  the 
columns  which  rise  to  meet  the  rounded  upper  story 
form  the  deep,  curved  recess  of  the  choir.  These,  with 
the  downward  sweep  of  the  vaulting  which  rests  on  a 
single,  slender  column  in  the  far  perspective  of  each 
walk,  modify  in  the  general  effect  the  sharpness  of  the 
outer  angle.  The  tall  arches  and  high  windows  have 
the  most  beautiful  proportions,  much  rare  old  glass 
gives  the  whole  choir  a  softly  radiant  glow,  and  shadows 
lurk   among   the   curves   and   carvings   of   the   warm 


LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS,  COLOUR,  FORM,  AND  PROPORTION,  ALL  ARE  EXQUISITELY 

BLENDED  IN  THIS  BEAUTIFUL  CHOIR." MOULINS. 

93 


Moulins. 


95 


coloured  stone  that  seems  to  shade  from  mellow  pink  to  a 
rich  brown.  Lights  and  shadows,  colour,  form,  and  pro- 
portion, all  are  exquisitely^  blended  in  this  beautiful  choir. 

"What,  it  may  well  be  asked,  is  the  effect  of  the  union 
of  this  choir  and  the  nave?  No  union  could  offer 
greater  contrasts,  but  it  is,  perhaps,  in  these  very  con- 
trasts that  the  miracle  occurs, — a  sort  of  friendly 
juxtaposition  that  is  as  far  from  clashing  discordance 
as  it  is  from,  hamion}^  Few  churches  have  so  many 
differing  perspectives,  few  so  many  beautiful  ones  as 
this  Cathedral  of  the  stately  grey  nave  and  the  rich 
and  glowing  choir. 

Cathedrals,  like  their  confessionals,  echo  none  of  the 
secrets  which  are  whispered  within  them,  but  history 
preserves  the  memory  of  four  notable  women  who 
worshipped  here;  and  in  the  mysterious  silence  which 
falls  upon  a  church  at  twilight  their  shadows  seem  to 
reappear.  First,  in  high,  stiff  ruff  and  long,  brocaded 
robe,  comes  Madame  Agn^s  de  Bourgogne,  proud  and 
well-pleased  to  pray  within  the  church  which  she  had 
helped  to  build.  Then  follows  another  Princess,  but 
dressed  in  a  Sister's  garb.  She  scarcely  sees  the  beauty 
of  the  church,  she  only  thinks  of  him  she  loved  and  him 
she  hates, — her  husband,  Henry  of  Montmorency,  and 
Richelieu  who  beheaded  him.  She  sits  before  the 
Altar  as  the  Mass  is  sung,  and  her  mind  wanders  to  the 
past.  She  sees  the  Prince  alive,  handsorae,  magnificent, 
as  she  used  to  see  him  from  her  window,  and,  in  the 
strange  perversity  of  her  grief,  she  thinks  with  pleasure 


96 


Aquitaine. 


of  other  ladies  whom  he  loved  and  feels  she  loves  them 
too.  A  bell,  an  organ  peel,  remind  her  where  she  is, 
and  slowly — most  slowly — she  kneels  and  prays  for 
grace  to  pardon  the  great  Cardinal  whom  she  calls 
murderer.     The  Mass  is  sung  and  she  passes  quickly 


SAINT  PETER,   THE   PATRON  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL. MOULINS. 


to  the  Convent  she  has  rebuilt,  for  there  lies  all  that 
remains  on  earth  of  Henry  of  Montmorency. 

After  this  vehement  nun,  comes  one  whose  mind 
is  all  serenity,  Jeanne-Frangoise  de  Chantal,  Mother 
Superior  and  Saint;  and  last  along  the  years,  a  strange 


Tulle.  97 

and  storm- tossed  being,  Anne-Genevieve  de  Bourbon- 
Conde,  the  too  famous  "heroine  of  the  Fronde, "  whose 
soul  awakened  in  Moulins;  she  found  that  she  was  not 
great  and  happy  as  she  had  dreamed,  but  "loaded  with 
chains  and  pierced  with  wounds,"  a  penitent,  who 
afterwards  became  a  zealot  of  Port  Royal. 

They  pass  out, — the  Princess-patron  of  the  church, 
the  tearful  Sister,  the  saintly  nun  whose  only  aspirations 
were  toward  spirituality  and  good  works,  and  the 
Magdalene.  Other  figures,  less  spectral,  pass  in  and 
out;  for  until  the  doors  are  closed  prayer  seldom,  if 
ever,  ceases  within  the  church.  To  the  traveller,  watch- 
ing and  meditating  in  the  failing  light,  it  seemed 
as  if,  when  the  night  had  fallen  and  the  worshippers 
had  gone,  the  Cathedral  itself  became  "an  ever-living 
prayer,  a  work  offered  anew  to  God,  a  perpetual  witness 
of  these  daily  supplications.  " 

"If  it  were  not  necessary  to  go  there, 
UuIIe  Tulle  would  be  a  very  pretty  city.     The 

valley    in    which    it    is    situated    is  .   .   . 

charming,  and  beyond  its  gates  are  mead- 
ows, wooded  hills,  gorges,  and  streams  where  one 
might  w^ell  dream  dreams.  There  is  a  high  city  and  a 
low  city,  .  .  .  well-kept  quays  on  the  river  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
if  my  Cathedral-church  were  not  so  dark,  it  might 
be  called  beautiful.  ...  But  all  this  cannot  make  me 
forget  that  the  approaches  to  the  city  are  so  rough  and 
steep  that,  on  arriving,  one  feels  as  if  one  were  being 

VOL.  II — 7 


98  Aquitaine. 

precipitated  into  the  depths,  and  thtrs  I  am  not  sur- 
prised that  those  who  merely  visit  Tulle  should  speak 
ill  of  it,  and  that  those  who  remain  here  should  speak 
well  of  it." 

With  the  exception  of  the  "gates"  that  exist  no 
longer,  this  description,  written  two  hundred  years 
ago  by  the  polished  Monseigneur  Mascaron  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Scud6ry  upon  his  first  arrival  in  the  diocese, 
might  have  been  written  of  the  pleasant,  monotonous 
Tulle  of  to-day,  and  probably  described  as  well  the 
prosperous  town  of  the  XIV  centuiy  which  had  grad- 
ually grown  about  the  Benedictine  monastery.  In 
that  century  the  Abbot  of  Tulle  was  a  lord  who  had 
lay  vassals,  and  who  was  described  as  "a  vigilant, 
powerful  protector  who  knew  how  to  j)reserve  and 
defend  his  rights  and  interests,"  and  a  little  later,  the 
last  Abbot  of  the  monastery,  Amould  de  Saint-Astier, 
became  the  first  Bishop  of  Tulle.  It  was  the  period 
of  transformation  for  not  a  few  Benedictine  founda- 
tions, and  the  change  was  affected  by  one  person.  Pope 
John  XXII,  and  towards  one  end,  the  relaxation  of 
the  monastic  rule  of  Saint  Benedict  and  the  creation  of 
an  episcopal  See. 

John  XXII  has  been  called  a  luxurious  and  miserly 
prelate,  and  it  is  said  that  the  rich  Benedictine  Abbeys 
of  Sarlat,  Tulle,  Maillezias,  and  Limoux  became 
Bishoprics  in  such  rapid  succession  because  of  their 
fat  contributions  to  the  purse  of  gold  which  the  French 
Pope  left  with  his  Florentine  bankers. 


99 


Tulle. 


loi 


The  Bull  for  the  erection  of  Tulle  reads  very  differ- 
ently, however;  and  in  view  of  the  charges  against 
John  XXII  and  his  well-known  characteristics,  it  is 
a  most  interesting  document.     "John,  Bishop,  servant 


THE  NEW  CATHEDRAL,  AS  THE  POPE  HAD  DECREED, 

"WAS  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  MONASTERY  OF  THE 

ORDER  OP  SAINT  BENEDICT." TULLE. 

of  the  servants  of  God,"  writes  that  "Our  Saviour, 
by  Whose  will  all  is  accomplished*  seeing  a  great  har- 
vest in  the  field  of  this  world,  and  considering  the 


I02  Aquitaine. 

small  number  of  laboureivS,  thought  that  the  master 
of  the  house  should  be  asked  to  send  forth  others,  and 
himself  rising  early  in  the  morning  like  the  good  father 
of  a  family,  sent  labourers  to  his  vineyard  at  different 
hours  of  the  day.  For  this  reason  the  Roman  Pontiff, 
who  according  to  the  will  of  this  Divine  Master  is  recog- 
nised as  His  Vicar  on  earth,  and  who  should  also  con- 
form himself  to  all  His  acts  as  far  as  human  frailty 
will  permit,  as  soon  as  he  perceives  the  growing  har- 
vest, that  is  to  say  the  increase  of  the  people,  is  obliged 
to  multiply  the  necessary  labourers,  and  as  the  Prophet 
says  to  increase  the  guard,  .  .  .  and  to  send  suitable 
workers  into  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord.  Full  of  this 
solicitude  and  having  attentively  reflected  on  the 
great  multitude  of  people  which  it  has  pleased  the  Most 
High  to  grant  to  the  city  and  diocese  of  Limoges,  we 
think  that  it  is  not  possible  for  one  pastor  properly  to 
visit  all  his  diocese  and  to  fulfil  at  the  same  time  the 
functions  of  a  great  ministery.  .  .  .  For  these  mo- 
tives and  other  just  and  reasonable  causes  ,  .  .  we 
divide,  by  our  Apostolic  authority,  the  diocase  of 
Limoges  in  two,  .  .  .  declaring  .  .  .  the  city  of  Tulle 
...  to  be  created  a  Bishopric  .  .  .  and  that  the 
church  of  the  monastery  of  the  Order  of  Saint 
Benedict  be  henceforth  a  Cathedral-church." 

This  See  was  never  very  important;  and  in  granting 
it  to  a  favourite  priest,  Louis  XIV  said,  "I  name  you 
to  the  Bishopric  of  Tulle;  it  is  little  and  for  that  reason 
I  give  it  to  you,  for  it  will  permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure 


I  .■^^my''    "•■' 


"the  PORCH.       ;       -     IS  A  FINE  AND  DIGNIFIED  OLD  STRUCTURE.   ' TULLE. 


103 


Tull( 


105 


of  keeping  you  with  me,  or  of  seeing  you  of tener. " 
The  new  Cathedral,  as  the  Pope  had  decreed,  was 
"the  church  of  the  monastery  of  the  Order  of  Saint 
Benedict."  This  building,  begun  in  the  XI  or  XII 
century  and  finished  in  the  first  years  of  its  elevation, 
has  characteristics  of  both  the  Romanesque  and  the 
Gothic.  The  general  plan  seems  to  have  been  the 
usual  three-aisled  form  of  the  Romanesque;  the  long, 
round-headed  windows  of  the  lateral  walls,  ornamented 
with  two  small  columns  and  their  little  capitals,  belong 
to  the  same  form;  the  simple  vaulting  and  the  pointed 
nave  arches  are  Gothic;  and  all  the  other  architectural 
details,  neither  very  beautiful  nor  very  important 
when  the  one,  fine,  old  tower  is  excepted,  denote  the 
period  of  transition. 

The  Bishops  of  Tulle  did  little  for  their  Cathedral. 
Several  never  saw  it  and  accepted  the  gift  of  the  See 
for  its  title  and  its  benefices  alone.  These  prelates 
were  often  men  of  brains  and  influence,  friends  and 
advisers  of  Kings,  and  one  has  been  slightingly  called 
' '  a  tolerant  of  the  XVI  century  who  in  our  own  time 
would  have  been  a  liberal."  This  was  the  counsellor 
of  Francis  I,  Pierre  Duchatel,  who  persistently  pro- 
tested against  the  strenuous,  sanguinary  methods  of 
religious  persecution  Vv^hich  were  then  so  popular. 
Taken  to  task  by  a  zealous  superior  for  "too  broad  and 
too  liberal  ideas"  Duchatel  replied,  "I  have  spoken 
as  a  Bishop  should;  you,  on  the  contrary,  perform  the 
office  of  an  execvitioner. " 


io6  Aquitaine. 

Whatever  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  fact,  from 
an  architectural  point  of  view  the  presence  of  a  pre- 
late in  the  days  of  the  Renaissance  was  an  unmitigated 
evil.  If  he  were  an  energetic  builder,  a  Corinthian 
fagade,  a  rococo  chapel,  or  at  least  a  large,  incongruous 
altar,  marked  his  passage,  and  the  Church  of  Notre- 
Dame  may  be  accounted  happy  to  have  escaped  these 
architectural  perils. 

After  the  danger  of  change  came  that  of  spoliation 
and  destruction,  and  the  early  revolutionists  allowed 
the  Cathedral  to  be  transformed  into  a  factory  for 
fireanns.  In  this  capacity  its  great  dome  fell,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  the  city  who  had  been  accustomed  to 
tell  the  time  of  day  from  the  sun's  reflection  on  the 
dome's  twelve  windows  were  deprived  of  their  favourite 
clock.  The  choir  and  the  choir  chapels  were  also  torn 
down  and,  as  the  revolutionarv  ideas  increased  in 
violence,  fanatic  hatred  against  this  material  reminder 
of  the  Second  Estate  grew  to  fury.  It  was  finally  sold 
for  twelve  hundred  francs,  and  in  return  for  the  material 
of  which  it  was  built  the  buyer  agreed  to  tear  down  the 
church.  Being  secretly  a  Catholic,  he  deferred  the 
actual  destruction  as  long  as  he  could;  and  finally, 
after  many  pretexts,  he  declared  that  the  edifice  was  so 
large  and  heavy  it  could  be  demolished  only  by  gun- 
powder. This  alarmed  the  householders  who  lived 
near  by,  and,  forgetting  their  new  principles  in  the 
desire  for  self-preservation,  they  began  vehement 
petitions   for    the    church's   safe-keeping.     Ostensibly 


107 


Tulle. 


109 


that  he  might  devise  another  method  of  demolition 
the  Catholic  owner  demanded  a  new  delay;  and  as  time 
passed,  sentiments  changed.  The  Consulate  cared 
very  little  what  the  good  Sieur  Laval  did  with  his 


A  LARGE  BAY,  EXCLOSIXG  AN  OVAL  (EIL-DE-BCEUF  ABOVE  TWO  SMALL 
TWIN  ARCHES." TULLE. 


Cathedral,  and  with  the  Concordat  of  the  Empire  it 
was  restored  to  the  Church. 

The  building  which  survived  these  dangerous  vicissi- 
tudes is  but  a  remnant  of  its  former  self.  A  porch 
surmounted  b}-  the  tower  and  the  spire  is  a  rather 


iio  Aquitaine. 

fine  and  dignified  old  structure,  but  the  main  body  of 
the  church  consists  only  of  the  low  nave  and  the  straight 
wall  which  protects  its  mutilated  eastern  end.  As  a 
choir  was  necessarily  introduced  into  part  of  the  nave, 
the  perspective  of  the  interior  is  ruined.  One  gets 
but  little  idea  of  its  former  size;  and  paltry  wood- 
carvings,  statues,  pictures,  chandeliers  of  many  degrees 
of  brilliancy,  a  lecturn  surmounted  by  a  gilded  eagle,  and 
mediocre  stalls  add  to  it  an  indescribable  incongruity 
of  colours  and  forms — an  oppressive  sense  of  confusion. 
No  stranger  would  imagine  that  an  ancient,  battered 
statue  of  Saint  John  the  Baptist,  pieced  together  with 
iron  rivets,  was  the  church's  chief  treasure.  But 
an  Abb^  of  the  Cathedral  declared  with  many  a  sigh 
and  shrug  that  he  feared  ' '  many  TuUistes  are  so  poorly 
balanced  that  they  think  more  of  Saint  John  than  the}' 
do  of  the  Virgin  or  even  of  Christ."  On  last  Saint 
John's  Day  many  who  heedlessly  passed  the  place  of 
the  Holy  Sacrament  bowed  the  knee  to  the  Precursor, 
and  during  one  day  in  quiet  little  Tulle  over  a  thou- 
sand candles  were  burned  in  his  honour.  This  especial 
devotion  began  in  1340  or  1348.  The  city  had  been 
ravaged  by  war,  famine,  and  plague,  and  the  ancient 
chronicle  says  that  the  "good  men  and  true  and  the 
religious  persons  of  the  aforesaid  city  ordered  a  solem- 
nity ...  in  order  that  Monseigneur  Saint  John  the 
Baptist  should  intercede  to  preserve  them."  This 
solemnity  was  called  the  "Lunade, "  and  consisted 
of  a  great  procession. 


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Tulle.  113 

As  the  plague  ceased  after  the  first  "Lunade, "  it 
was  repeated  each  year  with  great  rejoicing.  On  Saint 
John's  Eve  bonfires  were  built  along  the  streets;  the 
houses  were  filled  with  lilies  and  decorated  with  green 
branches;  flutes,  fifes,  drums,  trumpets,  and  hautboys 
were  played  in  the  turrets  of  the  Cathedral- tower,  in- 
numerable torches  flamed  from  the  spire,  and  singing 
priests.  Grey  Penitents,  and  laymen  accompanied  the 
holy  statue  in  its  triumphal  progress  about  the 
town. 

The  revolutionists  forbade  this  celebration,  but  in 
1793  the  faith  in  its  efficacy  was  still  so  great  that  a 
gunsmith  placed  the  statue  in  a  bag,  slung  it  across 
his  shoulders,  and  with  his  holy  burden  thus  concealed, 
religiously  trudged  along  the  entire  route  of  the  "Lu- 
nade." In  1896  modem  Jacobins  again  prohibited 
the  celebration,  and  sent  several  companies  of  soldiers 
to  enforce  their  decree.  On  his  Eve  Saint  John's 
statue  remained  in  the  Cathedral,  but  in  the  darkness 
of  the  following  night  eight  valiant  priests  and  as  many 
laymen  caiTied  it  through  the  city  streets;  and  the 
Abbe  Bertry  claims  that  "in  spite  of  masonic  oppo- 
sition the  Lunade  will  endure  ...  as  long  as  the  city 
which  established  it. ' ' 

However  temporarily,  its  magnificence  is  now 
eclipsed;  and,  with  processions  forbidden,  with  an 
unrestored  Cathedral,  and  a  town  of  an  increasing 
commercialism,  Tulle  has  lost  much  of  its  old-time 
quaintness.      Like   Lodeve   it    is   in   the  midst    of   a 


1 1 4  Aquitaine. 

picturesque  country,  and  like  Lod^ve  it  is  an  ugly 
rather  than  a  gracious  addition  to  the  landscape. 

Of  its  mediaeval  days,  one  beautiful  corner  remains 
— the  Cathedral-cloister.  Hidden  behind  locked  doors 
and  high  houses,  lying  below  the  level  of  the  streets, 
half  ruined,  it  is  awaiting  a  complete  restoration,  and 
in  the  meantime  slowly  crumbling  away.  Its  walks 
are  very  low  and  broad,  with  an  almost  Romanesque 
massiveness  reminiscent  of  the  forms  of  Montmajour; 
planned  in  the  heavier  proportions  of  the  older  style, 
but  shaped  and  ornamented  in  the  Gothic  manner.  The 
medallions  of  the  vaulting  sculptured  with  Angels 
bearing  the  Chalice  and  the  Host,  the  large  bays 
enclosing  an  oval  oeil-de-boeuf  above  two  small  twin 
arches,  the  big  piers  decorated  with  little  columns,  and 
the  slender,  single  columns  between  the  twin  arches, 
all  form  a  construction  that  is  not  without  real 
beauty. 

In  one  of  the  walks  the  inner  wall  is  broken  by  three 
immense  bays,  and  one  of  these,  opening  to  the  ground, 
leads  to  the  Capitulary  Chamber.  This  entrance  and 
the  low,  dark  Hall  are  the  finest  parts  of  the  Cloister, 
but  much  that  would  be  interesting  in  their  ornamen- 
tation has  disappeared.  During  the  Revolution  of 
1 793,  when  the  Chamber  was  used  as  the  cellar  of  a  caf^ 
the  frescoes  of  the  vaulting  became  mouldy  and  de- 
faced, the  dampness  and  neglect  of  the  many  following 
years  have  aided  in  their  obliteration,  and  now  onlv 
a  few  gilded  halos  and  faint  outlines  are  visible.     From 


115 


Tulle. 


117 


time  to  time  popular  balls  are  held  here;  and  the  popu- 
lace, who  come  in  a  spirit  of  ribald  derision,  sing  and 
dance,  chip  off  a  bit  of  stone  here  and  there,  and  scratch 
the  painted  faces  of  the  Saints;  and  so  late  as  1906, 
the  diocesan  architect  found  that  some  unknown, 
irresponsible  vandal  had  been  breaking  the  delicate 
foliage  of  a  capital. 

The  Cloister's  atmosphere  of  neglect  and  decay  is 
heightened  by  the  contrast  of  some  abortive  attempts 
at  restoration.  The  little  close  is  full  of  weeds  and 
stones,  the  walks  are  dirty  and  unkept,  and  the  digni- 
fied Capitulary  Chamber  is  now  the  resting-place  of 
the  advertising  signs  of  the  "Concours  hippique, "  of 
national  emblems,  odd  planks,  bits  of  carvings,  and  the 
dust  of  ages.  On  the  low  coping  which  divides  this 
Chamber  from  the  Cloister- walk,  in  solemn  effigy  of 
stone,  rests  a  former  prelate  of  the  church  of  Tulle; 
and  the  still  figure  with  hands  folded  on  its  breast, 
lying  in  the  midst  of  the  ruins,  adds  an  effect  of  mourn- 
ful solitude.  But  the  architecture  of  the  Cloister  and 
the  Capitulary  Hall  of  Tulle  still  maintains  its  su- 
premacy over  the  encroachments  of  filth  and 
debris,  and  the  traveller  who  finds  in  solemn,  clois- 
tered walks  a  beauty  and  inspiration  as  fine  as 
those  in  an}'  church,  will  not  regret  a  trip  through 
the  central  hill-country  to  the  quiet,  pleasant  little 
city  of  Tulle. 


1 1  8  Aquitaine. 

Henry  of  Navarre  was  much  incensed  at 

^  .  the  fair  Marguerite  of  Valois  because  of 

Cabors.  .    ^.  ^. 

an  indiscreet  flirtation  which  he  considered 

much  more  befitting  himself  than  his  wife. 
Isolation  in  N^rac  under  these  circumstances  was  not 
productive  of  happiness  to  either  of  this  ill-mated 
couple,  and  in  order  to  introduce  pleasure  into  their 
household  Marguerite's  mother,  the  very  mischief- 
loving  QueeQ  Catherine  de  Medicis,  came  to  N^rac 
with  a  "flying  squadron,"  of  youthful  and  beautiful 
maids  of  honour.  Then  began  the  "Guerre  des 
Amouroux"  whose  battle-field  was  confined  to  a  mile 
and  a  half  about  the  castle.  Here  there  were  no 
creeds,  no  parties,  not  even  the  minor  vexation  of 
principles.  Here  the  music  of  the  dance  was  the  call 
to  war,  flowers  the  ammunition  of  the  gallant  com- 
batants, and  sighs  and  songs  were  the  battle-cries. 
There  was  a  banquet  ever}*  day,  a  ball  every 
night,  an  extravagance  of  pleasure  that  had  been 
ably  planned  to  dull  the  conscience  and  weaken  the 
will  of  the  extravagant  and  pleasiure-loving  Gascon 
host. 

Outside  this  enchanted  battle-field  lay  another,  grim 
and  real;  and,  after  feasts  were  over,  Catholic  and 
Huguenot  who  had  not  been  able  to  forget,  even  over 
wine-cups,  that  there  were  parties  and  creeds,  retired 
to  this  bloody  land  to  fight  in  hatred  until  death. 
Although  he  was  the  ver\^  head  and  centre  of  the  gallant 
company  at  the  castle  and   the  not  unwilling  host, 


Cahors.  119 

Henry  of  Navarre  wandered  beyond  the  confines 
of  the  lovers'  lanes,  and  was  haunted  by  the  tempt- 
ing memory  of  the  city  of  Cahors,  loyal  to  the 
Valois  and  the  Church, — a  fair  prize  for  a  Huguenot. 

In  imagination  he  saw  the  little  peninsula  on  which 
the  long,  narrow  town  is  built,  the  river  flowing  on 
either  side  and  protecting  the  place  by  its  broad,  full 
current.  In  vivid  mental  picture  he  saw  the  high 
towers  that  rose  above  the  river  in  added  defence. 
From  the  steep  hills  on  either  side  of  Cahors  he  had 
looked  across  the  Lot — ^longingly  and  impotently — 
into  the  streets  of  the  royal  and  episcopal  stronghold. 
Onh^  one  entrance  was  possible, — the  gate  which 
opened  landward.  Henry  coveted  and  planned;  and 
on  a  pleasant  night  in  June,  after  having  feasted  and 
flirted  with  his  charming  visitors,  the  King  slipped 
away,  sprang  to  horse,  and  rode  off  in  the  darkness  to 
join  his  band  of  seven  hundred  men  and  blow  up  the 
gate  of  Cahors. 

As  he  passed  the  rich  fields  near  Anglars,  day  was 
already  breaking ;  meeting  a  pretty  peasant  girl  going 
to  w^ork  and  stopping  his  horse  to  speak  to  her,  he 
learned  that  her  name  was  Jeanne  of  Aymet  and  that 
she  had  a  lover  in  the  city.  Touched  by  her  sweetness, 
the  kindly,  susceptible  King  promised  to  spare  the 
lover's  life  in  the  sack  of  the  city,  and  passed 
on  to  battle.  In  those  same  fields  which  Henry 
saw  in  the  dawning  light,  he  is  sung  and  remembered 
to-day    as,    in   Wordsworth's    beautiful    verses,    they 


1 20  Aquitalne. 

"Cut  and  bind  the   grain. 
And  sing  a  melancholy  strain. 
.  .  .  The  vale  profound 
Is  overflowing  with  the  sound, 

The  plaintive  numbers  flow 
For  old,  unhappy,  far-off  things 

And  battles  long  ago." 

Having  met  his  soldiers  near  the  fields.  Henry 
stopped  in  a  thick  walnut-grove  and  there,  safely 
hidden,  he  waited  till  the  darkness  of  night-fall; 
and  then,  blowing  tip  the  gate  with  a  petard,  he  began 
to  fight  his  way  into  the  city.  The  attack  was  fierce 
and  totally  unexpected,  but  the  inhabitants  were 
equally  loyal  and  resolute.  To  their  Bishop,  who  was 
in  his  episcopal  chateau  at  Mercu^s,  they  sent  for 
reinforcements;  they  crowded  the  streets;  they  ran 
to  their  upper  windows,  arquebuse  in  hand,  and  poured 
shot  on  Henr^^'s  men.  They  rushed  even  to  the 
roofs,  and  tearing  off  the  tiles  showered  them  on 
the  besiegers.  Not  a  man  of  Cahors  deserted  to  the 
White  Plume  of  Navarre,  and  the  battle  raged  during 
the  whole  night. 

Daybreak  found  the  King  among  his  soldiers,  lean- 
ing against  the  wall  of  a  shop,  undaunted  and  fighting 
desperately.  They  begged  him  to  retire,  but  Henry's 
whole,  impetuous  heart  was  in  the  struggle,  and  he 
exclaimed  quickly,  "My  retreat  from  this  city  will  be 
that  of  my  soul  from  my  body."  He  turned  again 
to  the  frav,  took  house  after  house,  street  after  street 


a 
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121 


Cahors. 


123 


stubbornly  and  determinedly  attacking  for  four  whole 
days,  and  on  the  fifth  Cahors  was  his. 

"Irritated  at  the  heroic  resistance,"  writes  an  his- 
torian of  the  battle, 
**he  gave  up  the  town 
to  pillage,  the  churches 
to  plunder  and  profan- 
ation, nuraerous  houses 
to  flames,  and  many 
citizens  to  butchery." 
Even  in  later,  calmer 
moments,  its  commer- 
cial privileges  were  not 
restored  and  it  sank  to 
the  position  of  a  small, 
provincial  city. 

In  mediaeval  times 
Cahors  was  not  only 
]  prosperous,  but  wicked 
and  renowned.  Through 
.  the  inherent  strength 
:  of  its  position  it  had 
risen  from  the  small 
capital  of  a  Celtic  tribe 
to  be  the  "  Divona  " 
of  the  Romans;  and 
from  being  one  of  many 
Roman  cities  it  rose  to  the  prouder  and  more  im- 
portant post  of  episcopal  stronghold  and  King's  town. 


"the  house   in   which  henry  IV.  REST- 
ED  AFTER  THE   FIGHTING." CAHORS. 


1 24  Aquitaine. 

Then  it  acquired  its  evil  repute.  It  was  believed  to 
be  the  resort  of  usurers;  its  Bishop,  with  small  respect 
for  Metropolitan  and  even  for  Pope,  declared  that  he 
held  power  from  the  King  of  France  alone;  and,  en- 
joying the  title  of  Count,  wore  sword  and  gauntlets 
which  he  laid  on  the  Altar  when  he  celebrated  Mass. 
That  the  inhabitants  of  Cahors  should  never  forget 
his  importance,  each  new  Bishop  required  his  noble 
vassal,  the  Viscount  of  Sessac,  to  meet  him  at  the  gate 
of  the  city,  uncloaked  and  hatless,  with  one  leg  bare 
and  one  foot  in  a  slipper,  and  thus  humiliatingly  at- 
tired to  conduct  him  to  the  episcopal  Palace  and  there 
to  serve  him  at  dinner.  This  haughty  state  of  the 
Lord  Bishops,  together  with  their  ever  ready  sword 
and  their  disagreements  with  my  Lord  Abbots,  natur- 
ally did  not  add  to  the  spirituality  of  their  city,  and  in 
the  Inferno  these  terrible  words  of  Dante  echo  its 
reputation, — 

"  The  inmost  round  marks  with  its  seal 
Sodom  and  Cahors  and  all  such  as  speak 
Contemptuously  of  the  Godhead  in  their  heart." 

Yet  even  this  Sodomite  city  stood  appalled  at  the 
rumoured  wickedness  of  the  greatest  and  most  terrible 
of  its  children,  Jacques  d'Euse,  son  of  a  cobbler  or 
burgher,  who  in  13 16  ascended  the  papal  throne  as 
John  XX I L  Apart  from  the  lavishness  of  sin  which 
made  him  notorious  throughout  Christendom,  there 
was  much  generosity,  as  well  as  a  few  special  crimes. 


A     SHORT,     BROAD,     AISLELESS     HALL,     DIVIDED     INTO     TWO     BAYS     OF 
GENEROUS     SIZE." CAHORS. 


125 


Cahors.  1 27 

which  he  reserved  for  his  native  town.  Like  all  French 
Popes  he  was  a  patriot  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word. 
He  impartially  founded  a  University  in  Cahors, 
planned  a  great  papal  Palace  whose  ruins  still  exist, 
cut  the  ancient  diocese  into  three  Bishoprics,  and 
believing — or  feigning  to  believe — that  Hugues  Geraud, 
the  Bishop,  was  hastening  his  death  by  magic  arts,  had 
him  either  burned  to  death  or  flayed  alive  and  torn 
asunder  by  w41d  horses,  and  then  appointed  to  the 
vacant  See  his  relative,  William  of  Labroa. 

The  Cathedral  of  Cahors  does  not  owe  the  debt  of 
gratitude  to  this  Pontiff  which  Notre-Dame  of  Mende 
must  ascribe  to  Urban  V.  It  belongs  indeed  to  almost 
every  architectural  school  in  France,  it  is,  as  Monsieur 
Calvet  truly  sa3^s,  "like  a  museum  w^hich  unites  the 
works  of  all  generations,"  and  its  most  important 
parts  either  antedate  or  follow  both  the  period  and  the 
style  of  the  reign  of  John  XXII. 

Descending  the  fifteen  steps  which  indicate  the 
changed  level  of  the  ground  since  the  Cathedral's 
foundation,  one  is  immediately  impressed  by  the  hall- 
like nave  belonging  to  the  XII  century  church  which 
Pope  Calixtus  II  visited,  and  which  is  of  the  style  that, 
for  w^ant  of  a  better  term,  may  be  called  Gallo-Byzan- 
tine.  The  chapels  of  this  room,  its  galleries,  the 
round-arched  windows,  and  the  circular  windows  above, 
are  sometimes  curious;  but  they  are  the  details,  and 
details  which  detract  rather  than  add  to  the  impress- 
iveness  of  the  chamber,  and  the  traveller  felt  as  if  many 


128  Aquitaine 

of  theni  should  be  torn  away  in  order  that  the  church 
might  be  seen  in  the  original  simplicity  of  its  strong 
proportions, — a  short,  broad,  aisleless  hall,  divided  into 
two  bays  of  generous  size,  each  of  which  is  covered 
with  a  great  dome. 

A  coat  of  fresh,  clean  whitewash  covers  the  walls; 
and  as  whitewash  is  almost  as  destructive  to  the  beauty 
of  ecclesiastical  architecture  as  was  Puritanism,  much 
of  the  dignity  of  the  conception  is  marred,  and  he  who 
would  truly  penetrate  the  thought  of  the  old  builders 
and  see  the  nave  as  they  intended  it,  must  look  long 
at  the  few  frescoes  which  have  been  uncovered  and 
imagine  those  which  still  lie  hidden  beneath  the  white- 
wash. Then  instead  of  these  staring  expanses  whose 
curves  have  an  insistent  and  ludicrous  resemblance  to 
bald  heads,  he  will  see  again  beautifully  toned  walls  and 
domes  whose  rounded  lines,  lost  in  a  darker,  more 
mysterious  height,  may  again  suggest  as  they  sug- 
gested to  the  mediaeval  Christian  "the  image  of  the 
celestial  vault  of  heaven."  Only  by  such  recollec- 
tions can  he  see,  in  true  appreciation,  this  early  Gallo- 
Byzantine  nave  which  the  work  of  time,  poverty, 
and  inappreciation  have  done  so  much  to  distort. 

Beyond  its  second  bay  the  choir  arises  in  Gothic 
height.  This  is  the  re-building  on  the  old  apse  walls 
which  Bishop  Raymond  de  Comil  commenced  in 
1285.  Out  of  harmony  with  the  older  style  of  the 
church  it  is  also  less  beautiful  than  its  style  would 
imply. 


Cahors. 


129 


Passing  from  the  Cathedral  into  the  Cloister  doorway 
the  traveller  seemed  to  have  moved  forward  several 
centuries  as  he  looked  upon  its  gracious  Flamboyant. 
The  carven  piers,  the  richness  of  the  mouldings,  the 


THE  CLOISTER  DOORWAY. 


fine  and  beautiful  vaulting,  and  all  the  splendour  of 
detail,  entrance  the  eye;  and  the  sunny  old  age  of  the 
Cloister,  its  womness — ^which  is  still  far  from  dilapi- 
dation,—  and  the  wayward  tangle  of  the  little  close, 
add  to  the  spell ;  w^hile  through  the  arches  the  Cathedral 


vol,.    II. ", 


130  Aquitaine. 

itself,  its  Gothic  choir,  its  queer  front  wall,  its  Oriental 
looking  domes,  become  more  romantically  irregular 
and  partake  of  the  charm  of  this  beautiful  Cloister. 

As  a  whole,  the  Cathedral  is  "a  building  of  strange 
outline."  The  Gothic  apse,  writes  Mr.  Freeman,  is 
not  without  "  stateliness, "  but  it  is  in  forced  contrast 


"the  sunny   old   age  of  the  cloister.    CAIIORS. 

to  the  two  big  domes  which  rise  above  it  in  curiously 
interesting  and  Oriental  suggestiveness.  High  above 
them  again  is  the  western  fagade,  a  wall  of  the  XIV 
century  which,  continues  Mr.  Freeman,  "takes  a  fonii 
sometimes  seen  in  north  Germany  but  that  seems 
strangely  out  of  place  when  attached  to  a  domical 


"a  "WALL  OP  THE  XIV  CENTURY  WHICH,  .  .'TAKES  A  FORM  SOME- 
TIMES SEEN  IN  NORTH  GERMANY,  BUT  THAT  SEEMS  STRANGELY  OUT 
OF  PLACE  WHEN  ATTACHED  TO  A  DOMICAL  CHURCH  IN  SOUTHERN 
GAUL.  '  " CAHORS. 


t:;i 


Cahors. 


133 


church  in  southern  Gaul.'-  It  is  not  beautiful,  but  it 
is  rather  quaint,  queer,  and  archaic,  with  its  round 
windows  and  its  arched  window^s,  its  arcaded  openings, 
and  its  peaked  roofs. 

A  tall,  pointed  entrance  w^ay  is  cut  in  the  facade, 
but  the  finest  door  of  the  Cathedral  is  the  north  portal 
of  the  XII  century,  whose  doors  are  closed  and  partly 
hidden  by  the  rise  in  the  ground  level.  Although  this 
very  essentially  disturbs  the  effect  of  its  original  pro- 
portions, and  although  the  sculptures  are  much  de- 
faced, the  portal  is  comparable  with  that  of  Moissac 
and  with  many  of  the  beautiful  Romanesque  creations 
of  the  Midi.  Its  great  arch,  which  is  very  deep,  cuts 
the  columns  and  arches  that  decorate  the  church's 
outer  wall.  Much  of  the  ornamentation  is  now  gone, 
but  the  figures  of  the  tympanum  "still  stand  in  clear 
relief.  Christ,  in  the  centre,  blesses,  and  holds  the 
Holy  Book;  Angels,  adoring,  stand  at  His  side  and 
hover  over  Him;  below  are  large  statues  of  the  Virgin 
and  the  Apostles;  and  the  groups  which  surround  the 
angelic  figures  represent  scenes  from  the  life  of  Saint- 
Genou,  Jesus  and  the  Woman  of  Samaria,  and  other 
churchly  subjects  which  lend  themselves  to  a  dramatic 
representation  in  stone. 

Perhaps  it  was  through  this  door,  then  in  all  its 
splendour,  that  the  great  visitor  of  the  XII  century, 
Pope  Calixtus  II,  entered  to  consecrate  the  Altar  of 
the  new  church.  Certainly  it  was  here  that  the  citizens 
crowded  on  Saint  Stephen's  Day  to  witness  the  crown- 


134 


Aquitaine. 


ing  of  the  youngest  Canons,  in  memor}"  of  the  crown 
which  sorrowing  Deacons  placed  on  the  head  of  the 
first  Christian  martyr,  the  patron  Saint  of  the  Cathedral. 
The  doors  are  now  closed,  the  interior  is  marred  by 
whitewash,  the  exterior  wasted  by  decay,  all  the  mili- 


"JTHE  FINEST  DOOR  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL  IS  THE  NORTH  PORTAL  OF  THE 
XII  CENTURY." CAHORS 

tary  display  of  the  Bishops  and  much  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical pomp  of  the  Middle  Ages  have  passed  away. 
Yet  here  is  a  pleasant  field  for  imagination;  here,  for 
those  that  care  to  see,  is,  as  Monsieur  Calvet  truly  writes 
"a  museum  which  reimites  the  works  of  each  genera- 


THE  CHARM  OF  THE  CLOISTER.     CAHORS. 


135 


Sarlat.  137 

tion  and  may  furnish  matter  for  a  complete  course  of 
archcEology, "  with  its  two  bold  cupolas  of  Byzantine 
reminiscence,  the  Romanesque  of  the  north  portal,  the 
awkward  Gothic  of  the  choir,  and  the  charm  of  the 
Cloister's  Flamboyant. 

Besides  the  Cathedral,  there  is  the  quaint  little  city 
of  Cahors,  charmingly  and  picturesquely  situated  on 
its  peninsula  in  the  Lot, — ^with  a  bold  arch  of  the 
ancient  Roman  thermae,  with  the  same  old,  narrow 
streets  where  Henry  IV  fought  his  way,  a  house  in 
which  he  rested  after  the  fighting,  and  a  tower  in  whose 
wide  opening  malefactors  swung  in  warning  to  others. 
There  are  the  towers  and  crumbling  walls  of  the 
old  fortifications,  the  most  beautiful  bridge  in  the 
world,  and  walks  in  the  surrounding  hills  which 
well  repay  the  wanderer  who  lingers  at  the  old  inn  of 
Cahors. 

The    traveller    had    walked    through    the 

lonely  wooded  country  between  P^rigueux 

and  Sarlat,  past  villages,  an  old   fortified 

church,  and  the  picturesque  castles  of  the 

Dordogne    country.     Arriving    early    on    a    summer's 

afternoon  he  found  Sarlat  a  busy  little  town.     It  was 

market-day;  many  empty  carts  were  standing  about 

the  streets,  the  big,  inn-like  hotel  was  crowded  with 

farmers,  while  in  an  open  square,  horses,  mules,  pigs, 

buyers,   and  sellers  were  noisily  jostling  each  other. 

Escaping  from  this  hot,  jabbering  crowd,  the  traveller 


138  Aquitaine. 

passed  through  narrow,  deserted  streets  to  the  old 
Cathedral. 

Unlike  the  neighbouring  city  of  Tulle,  Sarlat  has 
remained  an  old-time  town;  but  like  Tulle  it  owes  the 
foundation  of  its  See  and  its  mediaeval  prosperity  to 
its  Benedictine  Monastery.  The  monks  came  before 
the  VIII  century,  drawn  to  the  charming  valley  by 
the  "sweetness  and  abundance  of  its  waters."  After 
centuries  of  good  works,  they  fell  into  simony,  and 
were  visited  by  Saint  Bernard,  the  greatest  monk  of 
his  times. 

This  reformer,  says  Michelet,  **was  nourished  by  the 
Bible,  and  the  Gospel  quenched  his  thirst.  He  could 
scarcely  stand,  yet  he  found  strength  to  preach  the 
Crusade  to  an  hundred  thousand  men.  When  he 
appeared,  thin  and  pale,  .  .  .  the  people  believed 
that  they  saw  a  spirit  rather  than  a  man.  His  sermons 
were  terrifying;  mothers  kept  sons  away  from  them 
and  wives,  their  husbands,  for  all  would  have  followed 
him  to  the  monastery. "  Another  writer  says  that  this 
powerful  monk  was  "the  true,  undisputed  head  of  the 
Christendom  of  his  epoch,  ...  he  had  succeeded 
against  untold  odds  in  reforming  the  Church  to  his 
ideal,  in  directing  a  new  Crusado  to  the  Holy  Land,  in 
vanquishing  by  theological  discussions  one  of  the 
greatest  charmers  of  crowds  who,  perhaps,  has  ever 
lived,  the  eloquent  and  learned  Abelard."  Saint 
Bernard  came  to  Sarlat  in  1147,  his  miracles  brought 
astonishment  and  awe  to  all  the  country,  and  in  his 


Sarlat.  1 4 1 

honour  a  tower  is  said  to  have  been  erected  on  the 
monastery  grounds.  But  this  curious,  cone-topped 
tower — the  most  curious  structure  of  Sarlat — became 
later,  not  only  a  chapel  but  a  burial-place,  and  is  called 
"Saint  Bernard's  Tower"  less  often  than  the '  *  Lantern  of 
the  Dead.  "  And  the  name  seems  almost  symbolic,  for 
the  life  which  the  fiery,  zealous  monk  infused  into 
the  Benedictines  of  the  city  died  away;  they  fell  again. 
Their  last  state  of  disorder  became  chronic,  and  so 
much  worse  than  the  first  that  it  is  said  their  Order 
would  have  disappeared  from  the  city  and  Sarlat  would 
have  lost  its  ecclesiastical  prestige  if,  in  13 18,  during 
the  second  year  of  his  Pontificate,  John  XXII  had  not 
elevated  the  Benedictine  Monastery  to  a  Bishopric. 

The  old  church  is  said  by  tradition  to  have  been  of  a. 
fine  type,  but  as  it  was  little  and  Romanesque,  and  as 
the  architectural  taste  of  the  period  was  for  the  large 
and  Gothic,  it  was  deliberately  demolished  in  1504  to 
make  way  for  a  more  splendid  and,  as  it  were,  a  more 
episcopal  edifice,  the  Cathedral  which  still  exists. 

Nothing  in  this  exterior  would  seem  to  have  justified 
the  destruction  of  the  Abbey-church.  It  is  large, 
but  its  size  is  principally  shown  in  a  long  expanse  of 
slated  roof -line  and  broad  stretches  of  wall.  Flying 
buttresses,  so  thick  and  solid  that  they  are  unworthy 
of  their  name,  support  the  lateral  walls  and  are  orna- 
mented with  poor  little  turrets;  and  plain  buttresses, 
also  turreted,  flank  the  angles  of  the  apse;  and  here 
below  the  long  windows,  the  low,   slanting  roofs  of 


142  Aquitaine. 

the  choir-chapels  humbly  project.  This  is  obviously  a 
construction  of  the  XVI  and  XVII  centuries  when 
architecture  was  falling  to  low  estate  and  Bishops  had 
no  longer  the  mediaeval  ardour  for  church-building. 

The  tower  which  fonns  the  most  important  part 
of  the  fagade  is  a  relic  of  the  Abbey-church;  but,  like 
the  Last  Supper  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  it  has  been  so 
re-made  that  its  creator  would  scarcely  recognise  his 
work.  It  once  had  a  spire,  but  when  that  fell  it  was 
replaced  by  an  ungainly  hood;  the  good  little  Roman- 
esque door  of  the  monks  was  enlarged  in  accordance 
with  the  bastard  XVIII  century  style,  and  it  is  between 
the  hood  and  the  portal,  the  top  and  the  bottom,  that 
the  remnants  of  the  older  building  must  be  sought. 
Here,  above  the  portal,  are  five  mutilated  statues  so 
verv^  ancient  and  time-worn  that  they  are  almost 
unnameable.  Some  see  in  them  figures  of  Christian 
Saints;  but  the  Sarladais,  who  loves  the  mysterious 
and  the  legendar\^  claims  that  they  represent  heathen 
personages  and  came  from  a  long-lost  pagan  temple. 
Two  of  them  are  so  mutilated  that  the}"  defy  even 
his  picturesque  imagination.  But  there  is  Teutat^s  or 
Mercury;  and  Camulus  or  Mars  who  is  dressed  as  a 
Roman  soldier;  and  he  who  raises  a  great  globe  above 
his  head  is  called  Esus  or  Jupiter.  Besides  this  tower 
and  its  old  statues  which  are  said  to  have  been  placed 
above  the  portal  as  a  symbol  of  the  triumph  of  Chris- 
tianity, there  are,  behind  the  Cathedral,  in  the  wall 
which  used  to  protect  the  cemeter\%  arcades  belonging 


!<fe.:1j'S..I . '    V  t :'- 


'P\ 


^^wi 


'  this  curious,  cone-topped  tower     .     .     .  was  called  not  so  often 
'saint  Bernard's  tower'  as  the  'lantern  of  the  dead.'  " — sarlat. 


143 


Sarlat.  145 

to  the  old  Cloisters  of  the  Benedictines  which  should 
be  restored  to  art.  These  arcades  are  now  deformed, 
ruined;  and  so  much  money  and  labour  would  have  to 
be  expended  before  they  could  again  take  on  their 
ancient,  claustral  significance  that,  with  the  changes 
and  decay  of  time,  they  will  probably  disappear. 

The  exterior  of  the  church  is  also  in  need  of  many 
repairs,  it  is  bulk}^  and  monotonous  even  in  its  decay, 
and  it  has  no  great  lines,  no  beauty  to  inspire  the 
regret  which  the  humble  ruins  of  the  Cloister  evoke. 

On  entering  the  Church  of  Saint-Sacerdos,  the  first 
impression  is  that  of  a  room  of  simple,  broad  dignity. 
In  reality  it  is  an  interior  of  surprises  and  complexities. 
Behind  the  choir  are  three  vestibules  and  as  many 
chapels  that  have  almost  the  formation  of  churches  in 
miniature;  yet  these  peculiar  additions  are  scarcely 
perceived  from  the  central  nave  and,  far  from  dis- 
turbing its  simple  architectural  conception,  give  dim, 
pleasant  perspectives  to  the  choir. 

Through  the  arches  of  the  nave  one  sees  broad,  low 
side  aisles  and,  beyond  them,  chapels  shrouded  in 
mysterious  light.  The  eye  is  not  held  by  any  of  these 
constructive  details  but  returns  insistently  to  the 
central  nave  and  the  choir.  Here  the  lines  are  uneven; 
in  the  nave  the  breadth  is  greater,  the  arches  are  taller, 
and  the  ground  level  is  lowered,  yet  the  choir  and  the 
nave  seem  to  form  but  one  vast  room.  In  the  choir 
very  lofty,  slender  windows  half  walled-up  and  smaller 
ones  placed  high  in  the  nave  give  this  room  a  strong- 

VOL.    II. — 10 


146  Aquitaine. 

but  not  a  glaring  light.  Below  the  windows  there 
is  no  clerestory'  and  the  broad,  low  arches  join  pillars 
whose  huge  roundness  is  appropriate  to  the  size  of 
the  nave  and  the  seeming  weight  of  the  wall  they  bear. 
For  capitals  the  pillars  have  plain,  narrow  bands,  and 
the  arches  are  plainly  grooved;  these  forms  of  Spartan 
simplicity  are  the  decorative  details  of  the  room.  Its 
whole  conception  is  large,  broad,  and  lofty.  It  is 
imposing  and  stately,  not  from  beauty,  but  from  an 
almost  ascetic  severity.  The  furniture  of  this  interior 
is  not  noteworthy, — woodwork  of  crude  but  spirited 
composition  and  a  few  paintings. 

"The  creation  of  the  See,"  ^\Tites  Escande,  an 
historian  of  the  country,  "...  was  made  to  increase 
the  prestige  and  the  wealth  of  the  city,  but  the  Hundred 
Years'  War  of  the  XIV  and  XV  centuries,  the  Wars 
of  Religion  of  the  XVI  century,  and  later,  the  rapid  de- 
crease of  religious  faith  prevented  this  institution  from 
bearing  all  the  fruits  of  which  it  had  given  promise." 
After  1600  Sarlat  had  ceased  to  grow,  and,  unlike 
many  others,  its  Bishopric  was  often  poor.  At  one 
time  it  was  so  impoverished  that  a  dying  prelate  left 
in  his  stables  only  "a  broken-winded  horse,  another, 
one-eyed  and  black,  and  a  blind  mule." 

Many  things  beside  Wars  and  irreligion  contributed 
to  this  decline  of  churchly  prestige.  Protestantism 
became  so  strong  in  the  country  that  the  Bishop  of 
Sarlat,  to  avoid  violence,  was  obliged  to  allow  heretics 
as  well  as  Catholics  to  worship  in  the  church  of  the 


A   ROOM  OF   SIMPLE,    BROAD   DIGNITY.    SARLAT. 


147 


Sarlat.  149 

neighbouring  town  of  Issigeac.  The  tithes  of  the 
reverend  clergy,  generally  collected  by  an  unfeeling 
lay  official,  grew  more  and  more  unpopular;  many 
good  priests  incurred  the  hatred  of  the  poorer  classes 
because  they  paid  voluntary  or  involuntary  court  to 
the  powerful  parishioners  whom  alone  they  named  in 
the  public  prayers,  and  to  whom  they  first  gave  Holy 
Water  at  the  Asperges.  All  these  occurrences  and 
customs,  both  small  and  great,  tended  to  lessen  the 
real  and  lasting  influence  of  the  Church;  and  when,  in 
the  Revolution  of  '89,  her  hold  on  the  people  was  tested, 
her  external  splendour  disappeared  and  her  power  was 
eclipsed.  The  Bishop  of  Sarlat  refused  to  take  the 
"Oath"  of  fidelity  to  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the 
Clergy,,  and  the  See  became  vacant.  In  1795  he  re- 
turned and  secretly  attempted  its  re-organisation,  but 
he  was  so  unsuccessful  that  he  soon  retired  into  Italy, 
the  Bishopric  of  Sarlat  ceased  to  have  an  independent 
existence,  and  its  title  was  joined  to  that  of  Perigueux. 
The  city  retains  few  traces  of  these  stormy  times. 
If  one  can  imagine  the  ancient  fortifications  instead 
of  the  country  streets  which  replace  them,  if  one  can 
picture  the  old  houses  as  new  as  they  still  appear  in  the 
moonlight,  the  mediaeval  town  will  live  again.  With 
years  of  growing  civic  independence  and  the  compara- 
tive security  which  brought  renowned  fairs  within  her 
walls,  the  city  traders  became  wealthy  burghers  and 
built  beautiful  houses.  Those  who  were  Consuls  hung 
large  iron  rings  on  the  front  walls  in  token  of  their 


1 50  Aquitaine. 

rank.     Some  of  these  fine  houses  still  stand  and  a  few 
rings  hang  on  the  walls. 

But  in  the  narrow  streets,  not  only  the  magnificence, 
but  the  sordidness  of  the  Middle  Ages  can  be  pictured, 
and  although  Sarlat  was  not  a  mean  type  of  the  mediae- 
val city,  with  even  a  slender  fancy  he  who  reads  its 
annals  will  realise  that  life  in  the  humblest  house  of 
the  XX  century  is  more  comfortable  than  life  in-  the 
most  princely  mansion  of  Sarlat  during  the  days  of 
its  famous  citizen,  La  Boetie.  The  fortifications 
were  high  and  prevented  the  free  circulation  of  air,  as 
well  as  the  entrance  of  murderous  enemies.  Within, 
rose  the  peaked  roofs  of  the  houses  of  the  Sarladais, 
bordering  dark,  narrow  streets;  and  near  the  centre 
of  the  town,  about  the  parish  church,  lay  the  cemetery. 
The  dead,  sewed  in  pieces  of  cloth  and  uncoffined, 
were  buried  near  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  when 
the  small  consecrated  spot  became  crowded,  bodies 
were  exhumed  and  piled  carefully  on  the  ground  to 
make  room  for  others.  When  the  cemetery  was  moved, 
the  new  site,  which  was  UvSed  until  the  XIX  century, 
lay  above  the  waters  of  the  Canons'  foundation,  the 
city's  principal  spring.  It  was  also  customary  to  bury 
ecclesiastics,  nobles,  and  wealthy  burghers  beneath 
the  pavement  of  the  Cathedral,  and  the  royal  pro- 
hibition of  so  late  a  date  as  1776  did  not,  even  then, 
include  the  interment  of  Bishops  and  patrons  of  the 
Church.  Beside  these  pestiferous  customs  the  street 
was  used  as  a  general  dumping  ground  and  the  home  of 


Sarlat.  151 

the  barnyard  fowls;  miasmas  and  foul  odours  were  sel- 
dom entirely  dissipated  in  these  dark  ways  bordered  by 
high  houses,  and  when  the  discomforts  within  doors 
are  considered,  as  well  as  the  unsanitary  conditions 
without,  the  mediaeval  ravages  of  smallpox,  plague,  and 
the  "Black  Death"  v/ill  seem  small  and  infrequent 
instead  of  strangely  virulent,  and  the  wonder  is  not 
so  much  that  many  succumbed  as  that  so  many 
survived. 

Some  one  has  said  that  the  Middle  Ages  were  times 
of  most  vivid  contrasts,  of  the  grossest  vices  and  of 
noblest  virtues,  of  splendid  festivals  and  sordid  living. 
The  Sarladais  is  still  fond  of  old  stories,  legends,  and 
memories  of  quaint  old  customs,  and  will  gladly  tell 
of  the  grain  market  held  in  the  church  on  rainy  days, 
or  of  the  farces  played  there;  he  has  tales  of  sieges 
and  sackings,  and  of  the  Carnival  which  his  ancestors 
enjoyed  as  greatly  as  the  Romans  of  to-day.  With 
his  ancestors  the  Mardi  Gras  was  celebrated  by  a  gor- 
geous cavalcade.  The  Consuls,  in  full  regalia,  riding 
fine  horses,  were  preceded  by  young  people  waving 
banners  and  a  man  who  carried  a  branch  decorated 
with  an  earthen  pot,  the  arms  of  England  painted  on  a 
piece  of  wood,  and  other  curious  and  symbolic  objects. 
When  the  procession  arrived  at  a  stated  place  along  the 
moat,  the  First  Consul  solemnly  mounted  a  platform, 
lifted  a  hammer,  and.  in  token  of  his  fellow-citizens' 
undying  hatred,  broke  the  English  coat-of-arms; 
he  then   as   solemnly  handed  the   pot  to   the  oldest 


152  Aquitaine. 

widow  who  had  re-married  during  the  year;  and  amidst 
the  unbounded  joy  of  the  spectators  the  games  began. 
Nowhere  in  modem  literature  has  the  picture  of  this 


"through  narrow  streets  to  the  old  cathedral." SARLAT. 

life  been  drawn  more  naturally  or  more  vividly  than 
in  Richard  Wagner's  Meisterstnger  of  Nuremberg,  and 
those  who  really  desire  to  know  not  only  the  skele- 
ton, but  the  living  figure  of  the  past,  should  see  this 


"monastic  churches  rose  in  dignity  and  sumptuousness. 

153 


-PERIGUEUX 


Perigueux.  i55 

modem,  musical  history.  For  though  Nuremberg  is 
a  German  town,  it  is  also  a  type — ^more  or  less  magnifi- 
cent— of  all  the  old  cities  of  Europe;  and  after  seeing 
on  the  stage  her  narrow  streets,  her  burghers,  her 
joyous  revellers,  and,  last  but  not  least,  her  watchman, 
other  old  towns  will  become  more  real.  A  house,  even  a 
beautiful,  sculptured  house  of  the  Renaissance,  is  more 
beautiful  to  those  who  know  its  legends  than  to  the 
stranger  who  looks  only  on  its  outer  walls.  The  history 
of  Sarlat  tells  that  in  the  strange  days  of  long  ago  a 
•church  was  not  only  a  place  of  decorous  worship,  but 
the  market  and  the  theatre  of  the  Faithful;  and  the 
Cathedral  and  the  streets,  interesting  in  their  antiquity, 
are  many  times  more  interesting,  many  times  more 
significant,  to  those  who  know  their  story. 

Modem  Perigueux  includes  two  founda- 
IDeriaucui  "tioi^s  of  ancient  times  ;  the  Roman  city  of 
Vesunna  clustered  at  the  foot  of  the  low 
hill  and  ruled  in  later  Christian  ages  by 
Bishops,  and  the  Puy-Saint-Front,  a  bourg  on  the  top 
of  the  hill,  grown  about  a  monastery  that  was  powerful 
enough  to  protect  and  govern  it.  Between  these  two 
settlements  existed  the  most  complete  separation  of 
government  and  goods,  and  between  their  spiritual 
rulers,  an  altogether  worldly,  natural,  and  unspiritual 
jealousy  and  suspicion.  To-day  when  the  Bishops  sit 
in  apparent  state  upon  the  throne  and  the  monk  is 
shorn  of  much  power,  when  the  Cathedral  is  almost 


156  Aquitaine. 

invariably  the  great  church  of  the  surrounding  country, 
the  Abbey  in  ruins  or  in  the  charge  of  secular  priests,  it 
seems  hard  to  realise  that  in  mediaeval  times  my 
Lord  Abbot  was  very  generally  a  more  powerful  person 
than  my  Lord  Bishop,  and  a  very  prickly  thorn  in  the 
Bishop's  side  because  of  his  independence  within  the 
episcopal  jurisdiction,  his  larger  wealth,  and  consequent 
haughtiness. 

The  monaster}'  was  the  refuge  for  sinners  who  gave 
not  only  their  lives  and  persons,  but  their  possessions 
in  return  for  the  boon  of  absolution  and  cessation 
from  strife;  it  received  substantial  peace-offerings 
from  those  who  wished  for  reconciliation  with  the 
God  Whom  they  had  outraged;  and  all  its  members, 
from  lay-brother  to  mitred  Abbot,  worked  for  the 
aggrandisement  of  the  Church  through  the  increasing 
greatness  of  the  Abbey. 

The  Bishop  had  no  such  united  force,  no  such  concen- 
tration of  effort,  and  as  Baring-Gould  has  written, 
"monastic  churches  rose  in  dignity  and  sumptuous- 
ness,  and  Cathedrals  lagged  far  behind.  Bishops  and 
capitular  bodies  could  not  command  the  means  to 
erect  Cathedrals  that  would  rival  the  splendour  of 
the  monastic  churches.  This  is  conspicuously  exemplified 
in  P^riguetix  where  the  head  church  of  the  diocese 
could  easily  have  been  packed  under  the  domes  of  the 
crossing  and  one  transept  of  the  abbatial  Church  of 
Saint-Front." 

Times  have  indeed  brought  changes,  for  the  Abbey 


Perigueux.  1 57 

of  Montmajour  is  a  ruin  and  the  Cathedral  of  Aries 
is  well  known;  Saint-Denis  is  but  the  church  of  a 
faubourg  and  Notre-Dame  is  the  more  famous  place 
of  pilgrimage;  Brou  seems  scarcely  more  than  a  show- 
place  and  the  more  lowly  Notre-Dame  of  Bourg  is  the 
truer  house  of  worship  and  of  prayer.  There  are  few 
places  in  France  where,  as  at  Hautecombe  on  the 
peaceful  Lake  of  Bourget,  the  monk  still  worships  in 
his  Abbey-church.  He  has  long  since  departed  from 
Perigueux,  and  the  Bishop  who  magnificently  cele- 
brates in  Saint-Front  doubtless  thinks  but  seldom  of 
the  days  of  his  predecessors  who  celebrated  in  the 
humble  Church  of  Saint-Etienne;  and  to  the  traveller 
also  Saint-Etienne  is  an  insignificant  parish  church, 
for  Saint-Front  rises  near  by  in  lordly  splendour,  and  is 
to-day  the  Cathedral. 

Nevertheless,  the  Church  of  Saint-Etienne  was  the 
Bishop's  church  during  six  centuries;  it  was  dedicated 
in  1047  t>y  the  Archbishop  of  Bourges  who,  on  the  same 
day,  dedicated  in  the  Puy  the  Abbey-church  of  Saint- 
Front.  The  monks  of  Saint-Front  were  able  to  con- 
tinue their  work  until  it  was  completed,  but  the 
Cathedral  remained  much  the  same.  Yet  the  Bishops 
were  not  a  less  proud  line  than  the  Abbots.  There  was 
one  so  valiant  in  the  wars  with  the  Routiers  that  he  was 
quaintly  said  to  be  "as  skilful  in  strife  as  in  turning 
the  pages  of  his  breviary,"  and  he  seems  to  have  pos- 
sessed many  of  the  general  characteristics  of  the  occu- 
pants of  the  See,  for  they  cherished  the  remarkable 


158 


Aquitaine. 


privilege  of  saying  Mass  with  a  loaded  pistol  on  the 
Altar.    • 

Although  the  Cathedral  of  Saint-Etienne  never 
rivalled  the  glory  of  Saint-Front,  it  was  not  as  humble 
as  the  Saint-Etienne  of 
to-day,  but  a  church  of 
three  domes,  with  a  tow- 
er which  an  engraving  of 
the  period  shows  to  have 
been  very  like  that  of  the 
Abbey-church,  with  a 
Cloister  of  four  low,  sim- 
ple galleries,  and  near  by, 
the  large  Palace  of  the 
Bishops.  Through  the  va- 
lour of  its  prelates  the 
Cathedral  escaped  the 
perils  of  the  Routiers,  but 
in  1577  both  the  "Puy" 
and  the"Cit^"  of  Peri- 
gueux  were  taken  by  the 
Protestants  and  held  by 
them  for  six  years.  Dur- 
ing that  period  the  in- 
vaders succeeded  in  pillaging  the  Abbey-church,  in 
destroying  the  episcopal  Palace,  and  in  burning  the 
eastern  and  western  parts  of  the  Cathedral,  as  well  as 
its  tower. 

Between  161 7  and  1664,  after  the  departure  of  the 


A   PRELATE  OF  SAINT-FRONT. pfeRI- 

GUEUX. 


FOR   SAINT-FRONT   RISES   NEAR-BY  IN   LORDLY   SPLENDOUR   AND   IS   TO-DAY 
THE   CATHEDRAL." PERIGUEUX. 


159 


Perigueux.  1 6 1 

Huguenots,  both  Bishop  and  Chapter  tried  to  restore 
and  to  re-build,  and  coats  of  arms  on  the  church's  walls 
mark  their  labours;  but  they  restored  chiefly  those 
portions  of  the  Cathedral  which  were  necessary  for  the 
celebration  of  their  own  worship.  The  tower,  which 
Michelet  calls  "the  organ  and  voice  of  a  church,"  was 
considered  an  ornament  and  its  reconstruction  was  not 
attempted,  the  part  of  the  church  which  has  been 
covered  by  the  western  dome  and  used  by  the  people 
w^as  not  re-built,  and  the  ruined  Cloister  soon  became 
a  mere  storehouse.  The  little  church,  which  had  al- 
w^ays  been  sadly  overshadowed  by  the  great  Abbey, 
w^as  now  but  a  wreck  of  its  former  insignificance. 
The  episcopal  Palace  lay  in  ruias.  The  Puy-Saint- 
Front  had  gradually  absorbed  all  the  political  and 
administrative  importance  of  Perigueux,  and  in  1669 
the  Bishop  gladly  abandoned  the  Cite  for  the  Puy,  the 
Chapters  of  the  Cathedral  and  the  Abbey  were  united, 
the  monastery  became  an  episcopal  residence,  and 
the  venerable  Saint-Etienne,  which  was  '  supposedly 
founded  on  a  site  of  a  Temple  of  Mars,  and  is  indeed 
surrounded  by  many  fragmentary  remains  of  pagan 
times,  was' left  among  its  ruins. 

The  deserted  little  church,  no  longer  a  Cathedral,  is 
neither  unsymmetrical  nor  uninteresting.  The  western 
dome  has  never  been  re-built,  and  as  the  choir  is  of 
late  reconstruction,  but  little  remains  of  the  XI  century 
church.  Yet  the  part  of  the  ruined  arch  which  is  still 
plainly  visible  in  the  front  wall  shows  the  disposition 


l62 


Aquitaine. 


of  the  ancient  edifice,  and  entering  the  low  door,  one 
sees  the  old  dome  which  illustrates  a  disputed  link  in 
the  evolution  of  western  dome-building.  This  cupola 
of  Saint-Etienne  is  supported  by  four  thick,  unmoulded 


THE  PART  OF  THE  RUINED  ARCH  WHICH  IS  STILL  PLAINLY 
VISIBLE  IN  THE  FRONT  WALL  SHOWS  THE  DISPOSITION 
OF    THE    ANCIENT    EDIFICE." PfeRIGUEUX. 

and  pointed  arches,  the  walls  of  the  section  have  a 
round-arched  arcade  surmounted  by  two  round-arched 
windows  which,  in  turn,  are  surmounted  by  a  circular 


Perigueux.  163 

window.  There  is  no  ornament.  Externally  the  walls 
have  two  shallow  arches,  and  the  dome,  deep  and  rough 
in  the  interior,  is  here  broad  and  flat,  with  a  tiny,  col- 
umned circle  that  bears  a  conical  roof  and  is  reminis- 
cent of  the  larger  circles  of  the  cupolas  of  Saint-Front. 

Scarcely  less  interesting  than  this  ancient  section  of 
Saint-Etienne  is  the  restored  choir  of  the  XVIII  cen- 
tury, a  reproduction  which,  considering  its  period,  is  of 
remarkable  fidelity,  and  which  might  well  have  served 
as  an  example  to  the  XIX  century  reconstructors  of 
Saint-Front.  This  restoration,  if  not  of  an  XI  century 
style,  is  of  one  closely  following,  the  XII.  It  is  as  long 
and  as  wide  as  the  choir  it  replaced;  but  it  is  higher, 
lighter,  and  more  graceful.  Its  piers  are  ornamented 
with  slender,  applied  columns,  its  windows  have  dec- 
orated frames,  the  dome  arches  are  moulded;  but  the 
general  form  being  similar  and  the  carving  moderate 
and  chaste,  the  effect  of  the  re-building  is  most 
harmonious. 

The  interior  of  Saint-Etienne  gives,  however,  a  very 
inadequate  idea  of  its  former  state.  Having  lost — 
it  is  to  be  feared  irretrievably — its  western  dome 
which  was  one  third  of  the  whole  church,  it  has  no 
longer  its  original  proportions  and  its  natural  per- 
spectives. Its  furniture,  too,  is  distressingly  con- 
glomerate, and  the  whole  interior  is  overweighted  with 
a  wooden  Altar  carved  by  an  industrious  Jesuit  of  the 
XVII  century,  which  was  removed  from  Saint-Front 
to  be  unhappily   and   injudiciously  placed   in  Saint- 


1 64  Aquitaine. 

Etienne;  the  former  beauty  of  the  old  interior  must  be 
left  to  the  imagination. 

The  charm  of  the  church  lies  in  its  exterior.  Although 
the  primitive  style  is  unomamented,  although  it  has 
no  fine  portals  or  delicate  details,  and  although  tower 
and  Cloisters  have  disappeared,  a  real  and  simple 
beauty  remains.  The  plain  walls  of  the  older  part 
and  its  low,  flat  dome,  the  dignified  piers  and  arches 
of  the  XVIII  century  which  have  a  faint  resemblance 
to  the  distant  walls  of  Agde,  the  grey  of  the  building 
stone  and  the  duU,  reddish  tiles  of  the  cupolas  make  a 
quaint  and  venerable  looking  church. 

Few,  however,  who  visit  Perigueux  take  leisurely 
pleasure  in  old  Saint-Etienne;  the  magnificence  of 
Saint-Front  is  too  engrossing.  And  if  Saint-Front  is 
magnificent  amid  the  commonplace  of  modem  houses, 
what  must  have  been  the  effect  of  this  glorious  white 
church  upon  the  mediaeval  beholder  who  saw  it  rise 
above  the  Isle  with  its  one  exquisite  tower,  its  great 
cupolas,  and  its  delicate  little  minarets,  dominating 
the  wretchedness  of  the  mediaeval  dwellings?  It  may 
indeed  be  said  that  so  marvellous  a  building  could  not 
fail  to  "impress  the  imagination  of  the  people  and  to 
determine  the  character  of  their  architecture. " 

Saint-Front  is  an  edifice  of  most  Christian  memories, 
built  above  the  tomb  of  the  Saint  who  had  brought 
the  "good  news"  into  Perigueux,  who  by  the  sign  of 
the  Cross  had  razed  the  Temple  of  the  tutelary  goddess, 
and  who  through  the  same  holy  sign  had  dehvered  the 


i65 


Perigueux.  167 

Gallo-Romans  of  the  district  from  a  horrible  dragon. 

In  spite  of  its  importance,  the  early  history  of  the 
old  Abbey-church  and  the  origins  both  of  its  style  and 
its  architects  are  lost  in  impenetrable  obscurity,  and 
have  formed  the  basis  of  controversies  as  interminable 
and  intricate  as  they  are  futile.  Whether  Syria  lent 
the  traditions  of  its  building,  whether  Venetians 
brought  the  ideas  of  Saint  Mark's  to  Aquitaine,  whether 
some  unknown  monlcish  pilgrim  or  some  learned  and 
travelled  architect  was  its  originator,  whether  it  was 
contemporaneous  with  the  great  Basilica  of  Venice  or 
of  a  later  date,  no  one  can  tell.  Coins  of  John  Zimisces, 
who  ruled  from  969  to  976,  have  been  found  in  the 
debris  of  the  church,  and  suggest  a  date  for  the  work 
and  the  nationality  of  its  builders.  But  the  date  is 
so  exceedingly  early  that  the  hypothesis  seems  extrava- 
gant, and  one  turns  gladly  to  the  meagre  but  more 
satisfying  facts. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  X  century  Saint  Froterius, 
a  pious  Bishop  of  Perigueux,  was  buried  in  a  Church 
of  Saint-Front;  in  the  XII  century  a  monastery  of 
that  name — and  a  monastery  included  a  church — was 
destroyed  in  a  conflagration  so  terrible  that  even  its 
bells  were  melted.  The  monastic  buildings  rose  again, 
and  it  is  probable  that  the  Gallo-Byzantine  church 
which  is  now  the  Cathedral  of  Perigueux  was  a  part  of 
them,  and  that  the  remains  of  a  former  structure  which 
are  now  preserved  in  the  western  entrance  belonged  to 
that  church  which  was  burned  in  1120. 


i68 


Aquitaine. 


For  1jhe  first  few  centuries  of  its  existence  Saint- 
Front  seems  to  have  enjoyed  the  prosperous  life  of 
"the  nation  without  a  history."  Time  was  the  first 
to  attack  the  church,  and,  aided  by  fire  and  water, 
inflicted  severe  blows.  Some  one  has  quaintly  said  that 
"these  domed  churches  are  as  sensitive  to  wet  on  their 


THE  DOMKS  WHICH      .       .       .       ''  'ARE  AS  SENSITIVE  TO  WET  ON  THEIR  BACKS 
AS  ARE  DUCKLINGS.  '  " PERIGUEUX. 

backs  as  are  ducklings,"  and  chalky  stone  is  equally 
sensitive  to  fire.  But  the  monks  repaired  the  ravages 
of  all  three  foes  of  their  church;  and  when  the  Hugue- 
nots took  P^rigueux  it  was  so  great  and  strong  that  it 
defied  even  their  destructive  genius,  and  after  ruining 
the  Cloisters  and  breaking  the  statues  and  altars,  they 


Perigueux. 


169 


left  the  edifice  itself  virtualh/  intact.  The  heretical 
rule  ended,  the  reign  of  the  Bishops  soon  began  and, 
as   was   inevitable,    the  surroundings   of   Saint-Front 


BISHOPS  OF  THE  XVII  AND  XVIII  CENTURIES,  CARING  LESS  FOR 
CLOISTERED  WALKS  THAN  MONKS  OF  PREVIOUS  AGES,  ALLOWED 
THE  CLOISTERS  TO  REMAIN  IN  RUIN." PERIGUEUX. 


changed.  Its  monastic  character  was  gone,  its  old 
cemetery  passed  into  disuse  and  disappeared,  much 
of  its  atmosphere  of  antiquity  was  lost,  and,  perhaps 


I/O  Aquitaine. 

most  unfortunate  of  all,  its  architectural  feature/^ 
underwent  a  radical  transformation. 

Bishops  of  the  XVII  and  XVIII  centuries,  caring 
less  for  cloistered  walks  than  did  monks  of  previous 
ages,  allowed  the  Cloisters  to  remain  in  ruin;  finding 
domed  roofs  expensively  troublesome,  they  allowed 
the  Cathedral  to  be  covered  with  an  immense  roof  of 
timber  and  tiles  which  protected  and  hid  the  domes, 
and  the  tower  was  given  a  covering  of  lead.  In  this 
disguise  the  edifice  descended  from  its  purely  religious 
character  to  become,  in  1789,  the  Hall  of  the  Three 
Orders  of  P^rigord;  and  within  its  walls,  in  spite  of  the 
preceding  Mass  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  a  solemn  Invo- 
cation of  the  Creator,  ill-feeling  arose  among  the  clergy, 
the  part  of  the  Assembly  supposedly  animated  by 
charity,  and  Monseigneur  of  Perigueux  swept  out  of 
the  church,  followed  by  other  dignitaries,  declaring  that 
the  remaining  members  of  the  Second  Order  were 
** animated  by  independence  and  insubordination." 
Religious  fervour,  which  was  at  a  low  ebb  on  the  eve 
of  the  Revolution,  revived  during  the  Terror,  but  was 
then  impotent.  Saint-Front  was  first  devoted  to  the 
"constitutional  cult,"  and  afterwards,  entirely  secular- 
ised, became  a  shop.  In  the  Concordat  of  1801  the  See 
of  Perigueux  was  suppressed,  and  it  was  not  till  twenty 
years  later  that  the  Bishopric  was  restored  and  the 
church  again  became  a  Cathedral. 

Less  than  half  a  centur\^  after  this  happy  date,  during 
the   more   peaceful   days   of   Louis    Napoleon's   rule. 


-uuJUiE. 


•  '"'"5    'Sifc^gi  _ 


A    MAGNIFICENTLY    SEVERE.        .        .       BUILDING     MARRED     BY    THE 
PRESENCE    OF       .       .       .       CHAIRS,   CHANDELIERS,        .        .        .       OAK   FENCES, 
AND   A        .        .        .       HEAVILY-CARVED   PULPIT." PERIGUEUX. 


171 


Perigueux.  173 

Saint-Front  received  its  only  great  and  terrible  mutila- 
tion. It  had  been  believed  indestructible,  it  had 
successfully  defied  time,  heretics,  and  revolutionists, 
losing  only  its  altars  and  coverings  c£  lead;  but  what 
Huguenots  and  "sans  culottes"  had  failed  to  move, 
one  architect  easily  and  successfully  destroyed.  After 
liis  iconoclastic  "restoration"  a  helpless  and  unhappy 
member  of  the  Archseological  and  Historical  Society 
of  Perigord  wrote,  "we  have  watched  these  mighty 
piers  and  pendent ives  torn  down  piecemeal,  often  with 
much  difficulty;  we  have  seen  walls  and  cupolas  and 
the  Gothic  choir  levelled  to  the  dust.  .  .  .  Even  the 
sculpture  has  been  replaced  in  the  capitals  of  columns 
and  pilasters,  nearly  all  of  which  was  in  perfect  preser- 
vation. Every  scrap  of  this  precious  old  work  has 
been  thrown  away  as  rubbish  and  replaced  by  copies 
absolutely  devoid  of  character  and  interest.  In  a 
word,  after  twenty-five  years  of  work,  after  an  expense 
of  many  millions  of  francs  where  a  few  hundred  thou- 
sands would  have  sufficed — what  has  been  the  result? 
.  .  .  What  would  be  thought  of  a  skilful  painter 
who  was  charged  with  the  restoration  of  a  rare  work 
of  art,  a  partially  effaced  fresco  of  Giotto  or  a  worm- 
eaten  panel  of  Van  Eyck,  who  executed  copies  very 
fresh,  highty  varnished,  in  brilliant  colours,  in  which 
he  had  not  failed  to  correct  or  change  what  struck 
liim  as  defective  in  drawing  or  in  tint,  and  who  having 
■done  this,  threw  the  original  panel  into  the  fire?" 
Baring-Gould,    a    modem    and    an   Anglo-Saxon   also 


1 74  Aquitaine. 

writCvS:  "Saint-Front  has  been  a  job  on  which  archi- 
tects and  contractors  have  found  means  to  spend  vast 
sums  to  their  own  advantage  and  to  the  ruin  of  the 
grandest  memorial  of  art  in  Aquitaine. ' ' 

The  monks  had  constructed  their  church  with  a 
native  stone,  I'Archant;  the  new  Saint-Front  was  built 
of  stone  from  the  distant  quarries  of  Angouleme;  the 
old  church  had  great,  pointed  arches;  the  new  arches  are 
neatly  rounded  to  please  the  fancy  of  Monsieur  Abadie; 
chapels  were  removed;  the  ancient  apse  was  torn  down 
to  make  place  for  another  equally  inconsistent  with 
the  general  style;  millions  were  freely  expended  in 
changes,  but  the  Cloister  was  not  restored;  and  the 
gi'eat  church  has  been  defaced  not  only  by  the  vain- 
glorious work  of  its  restorers,  but  by  the  barbarous 
taste  of  its  possessors. 

If  so  magnificently  severe  a  building  had  existed  in 
America  and  had  there  been  marred  by  the  permanent 
presence  of  hundreds  of  cane-seated,  pine  chairs,, 
by  large,  glittering  Stations  of  the  Cross,  by  huge^ 
gilt  chandeliers,  by  an  altar  festooned  in  blue,  by  oak 
fences  flanked  by  still  more  hideous  gas-posts,  by  a 
handsome,  heavily  carved,  walnut  pulpit  in  consonance 
neither  with  the  church  nor  any  of  its  woodwork,  the 
European  press  would  have  poured  forth — and  justly 
— its  eloquence  of  irony  and  scorn.  But  as  this  artistic 
barbarity  occurs  in  the  most  artistic  country  in  the 
world  no  voice  is  raised  in  protest.  The  architectural 
scandal  of  Saint-Front  is  so  tremendous  as  to  seem 


A  VISTA  THROUGH   THE   OPENINGS  OF  THE       SQUARE  PILLARS  ON  WHICH  THE 

GIGANTIC  MASS  OF  THE   EDIFICE  RESTS." PERIGUEUX. 

T75 


Perigueux.  1 77 

irreparable,  but  furniture  is  capable  of  removal.  If 
the  fences  in  the  central  nave  are  necessary  to  the 
proper  collecting  of  pennies  during  the  Sunday  Mass 
let  them  be  portable;  let  the  chairs  be  discreeth^ 
stacked,  as  they  are  in  many  churches  after  Masses  are 
over;  the  Blessed  Mother  of  Good  Counsel  would  not 
be  less  helpful — and  she  would  be  a  thousand  times 
more  beautiful — ^without  her  cheap  blue  curtain;  and 
the  Stations  of  the  Cross  carved  in  stone  would  be  far 
more  real  and  touching  than  against  their  present 
artificial  backgrounds  of  gold. 

Sometimes  it  is  useless  to  protest.  One  must 
endure.  One  must  endure  Saint-Front  in  its  garish 
whiteness,  the  existence  of  an  apse  as  incongruous  as  it 
is  uninspired,  one  must  endure  the  sight  of  the  rounded 
arch  of  Monsieur  Abadie  instead  of  the  pointed  arch 
of  the  monk-builders, — but  it  is  more  tantalising  than 
human  nature  can  bear  with  patience  to  be  in  one  of 
the  grandest  and  most  unique  churches  in  Europe  and 
be  obliged  to  dodge  first  this  huge  gilt  chandelier  and 
then  that;  to  see  instead  of  broad,  majestic  space 
hundreds  of  wooden  chairs;  to  gauge  the  majestic 
height  of  the  church  not  by  the  eye  but  by  the  black 
cable  on  which  the  chandelier  is  suspended.  It  says 
much  for  the  genius  of  the  original  creators  that,  in 
spite  of  the  vandalism  of  men  of  many  ages  and  faiths, 
the  greatness  of  Perigueux  persists;  and  that,  entering 
with  imagination  aglow,  one  may  still  perceive  it  as  it 
w^as  only  fifty  years  ago,  or,  better  still,  as  it  was  in  the 


VOL.    II. 1  2. 


178  Aquitaine. 

days  when  silent  monks  worshipped  God  in  the  beautiful 
austerity  of  Holiness.  The  church  with  its  domes  then 
becomes  strongly  reminiscent  of  the  East  and  of  certain 
of  its  native  ideas,  of  Saint  Antony  in  the  Thebaid,  of 
desert  vastness,  desert  space,  of  loneliness  and  renun- 
ciation,— of  that  monastic  idea  which  came  out  of  the 
Orient  to  find  so  permanent  a  home  in  the  West. 

The  general  plan  of  Saint-Front  is  a  Greek  Cross 
whose  four  arms  are  surmounted  by  four  cupolas. 
Over  the  crossing  there  is  a  central  cupola  a  little 
higher  than  the  others.  Under  each  of  the  five  cupolas 
the  plan  of  the  whole  basilica  is  reproduced  in  miniature, 
for  the  Greek  Cross  is  again  formed  by  the  disposition 
of  the  four  pillars  which  bear  the  great  arches,  which 
in  their  turn,  support  the  cupola.  Each  of  the  twelve 
square  piers,  on  which  the  gigantic  mass  of  the  edifice 
rests,  is  itself  divided  into  four  equal  pillars  by  longi- 
tudinal cuts  at  right  angles,  thus  again  presenting  the 
Greek  Cross.  The  church  is  lighted  both  from  its 
domes  and  from  windows  in  the  lower  walls,  and  is 
oriented  according  to  the  requirements  of  the  pre- 
scribed forms;  in  memory  of  the  dying  Christ,  the  choir 
inclines  from  right  to  left,  as  the  holy  Head  inclined. 
This  choir  is  a  piece  of  stupid  incongruity,  with  chan- 
neled columns  and  abundant  carving  and  ornament,  in 
such  violent  contrast  to  the  Spartan  severity  of  the 
old  Abbey-church  and  its  few  and  simple  banded 
mouldings,  that  it  can  hardly  be  more  appropriate 
than  the  old  Gothic  choir  which  it  replaced. 


Perigueux.  1 79 

Upon  this  work  of  Monsieur  Abadie  one  has,  happily, 
but  to  turn  the  back,  and  the  old  Abbey-church 
stretches  before  the  eye.  It  has  very  often  and  very 
naturally  been  compared  to  its  eastern  prototypes, 
and  in  particular  to  the  Venetian  Basilica  of  Saint 
Mark,  its  "mother  or  sister";  but  if  the  form  is  that 
of  the  Orient,  not  only  the  meagre  ornament  but  the 
all-pervading  atmosphere  is  of  the  West.  There  is  none 
of  the  gilded  ornamentation  of  Venice,  no  richly  toned 
mosaics,  no  enamel;  the  blue  and  white  tiles  of  the 
Mosque  are  not  here;  and  there  are — ^as  yet — no  mural 
frescoes.  The  church  is  imposing  by  qualities  which 
are  not  dominant  in  the  Adriatic  and  the  East,  by  its 
vastness,  by  the  immensity  of  its  lines,  and  by  the 
almost  terrible  simplicity  of  its  nude  stone.  Even 
dry  figures  take  on  a  certain  grandeur  when  they  ex- 
press the  dimensions  of  this  lonely  and  impressive 
interior  whose  length  and  breadth  are  equal,  an  hundred 
and  eighty-four  feet,  and  whose  spacious  cupolas  are 
over  ninety  feet  in  height. 

In  spite  of  its  western  atmosphere  this  does  not  seem 
the  place  where  mild  and  gentle  western  Saints  should 
be  invoked,  but  rather  the  Temple  of  some  great 
Prophet,  of  one  who  thundered  forth  Jehovah's  dread 
decrees  and  sternly  counselled  righteousness. 

The  exterior  of  Saint-Front  is  neither  as  severe  nor 
as  awe-inspiring;  and  closer  views  are  not  as  satisfying 
as  more  distant  perspectives.  For  below  the  circular 
drums  of  its  cupolas,  the  Cathedral  has  few  beautiful 


1 8o  Aquitaine. 

details.  The  door  of  the  south  aisle  scarcely  deserves 
the  name  of  portal.  The  western  fagade,  with  its 
court  formed  by  the  walls  which  contain  remains  of  the 
Latin  basilica,  is  archaeologically  curious,  but  rather 
unfinished  and  uncouth  in  effect.  The  principal 
entrance  to  the  north  aisle  is  under  a  heaw,  common- 
place porch;  and  although  the  Cathedral  is  b}'  no  means 
entirely  hemmed  about  b}'  houses,  the  views  from 
market-place  and  streets  are  suggestive  rather  than 
satisfying. 

The  Cloister  of  Saint-Front  is  almost  lost  to  the 
world.  Its  entrances  to  the  church  have  been  block- 
aded by  the  church's  carpenter  either  because,  as  the 
sacristan  says,  "he  is  jealous  of  my  prerogatives"  or 
because,  as  he  himself  says,  "I  don't  want  ever}'one 
always  in  my  workshop."  Whatever  the  reason,  not 
only  are  the  doors  which  lead  to  the  church  blockaded, 
but  the  two  outer  gates  are  locked,  and  to  enter,  one 
must  have  a  special  permission.  The  Cloister  is  in- 
deed in  melancholy  condition.  It  has  no  longer  either 
a  religious  or  a  contemplative  character;  and  is  not  so 
much  a  "workshop"  as  a  dusty  storehouse  for  broken 
columns,  bits  of  capitals  and  arches,  and  the  various 
implements  of  carpenters  and  masons. 

After  climbing  over  the  stones  and  heaps  of  rubbish 
which  encumber  the  walks,  the  traveller  sat  down  to 
contemplate  the  sordidness  of  these  ruins,  while  his 
guide  charitabU'  went  off  to  get  a  clothes-brush.  It 
does  not  seem  as  if  this  Cloister,  an  irregular  structure 


'the  slender,  white  tower  with  its  stories  of  many 
windows,  its  circle  of  columns,  and  its  tall,  coni- 
cal roof." perigueux. 

i8i 


Perigueux.  183 

of  the  XIII  and  XIV  centuries,  can  ever  have  been 
of  great  beauty.  One  side  is  supported  by  heavy, 
awkward  buttresses;  the  round-arched  walks  have  a 
few  rude  sculptures,  a  few  capitals  with  roughly  carved 
heads,  and  the  most  ornamental  parts  are  the  simple 
corbels  on  which  rest  the  vault  arches  of  the  Gothic 
walk.  In  juxtaposition  with  the  garish  newness  of 
the  restored  church,  the  sordidness  of  the  Cloister  is 
both  sad  and  inexcusable. 

It  would  have  been  so  easy,  so  natural,  to  have  left 
to  the  Cathedral  the  tone  which  its  great  antiquity  had 
given  to  the  stone  and  which  would  have  become  it  as 
age  improves  the  tint  of  ivory;  it  would  have  been  so 
natural,  so  easy,  to  have  restored  the  Cloister  which, 
because  it  was  more  exposed  to  all  the  elements  of 
destruction,  was  in  more  pressing  need  of  the  cleansing 
processes  and  the  new  stones  which  were  freely  wasted 
in  the  church. 

The  Cloister  was  probably  the  building  of  mediocre 
architects,  in  ruin  it  has  none  of  the  neglected  beauty 
of  Tulle,  and  in  restoration  it  would  not  rival  the  glory 
of  its  church;  but  the  most  humble  Cloister  has  its 
inalienable  charm,  it  is  a  form  of  ecclesiastical  archi- 
tecture which  expresses,  as  no  other,  an  ideal  of  mediie- 
val  faith, — repose,  meditation,  and  communion  with 
higher  things.  Too  many  of  these  peaceful  walks  have 
already  crumbled  to  dust  and  it  may  be  hoped  that 
this  of  Saint-Front,  not  only  for  its  ancient  memories 
but  for  its  place  in  the  church's  plan,  may  be  preserved 


1 84  Aquitaine. 

to  those  who  enter  with  pleasure  into  the  calm  of  old 
conventual  walks. 

As  from  the  streets  so  from  the  Cloister,  but  a  frag- 
ment of  the  huge  Cathedral  appears,  and  it  is  most 
beautifully  and  impressively  seen  from  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  River  Isle.  The  awkward  apse  then  sinks 
into  an  appropriate  insignificance,  the  pointed  gables 
of  the  massive  walls  appear,  the  cupolas  of  the  tiny 
pinnacles,  then  the  cluster  of  great  domes,  and  above 
all,  the  slender,  white  tower  with  its  stories  of  many 
windows,  its  circle  of  columns,  and  its  tall,  conical 
roof.  This  construction  is  of  a  strange,  wonderful 
impressiveness.  Each  dome  rests  on  a  low  drum  and 
has  in  miniature  the  columned  circle  and  cone-shaped 
roof  of  the  tower,  each  pinnacle  again  reproduces  in 
miniature  the  circle  and  the  roof.  They  are  massed 
together  in  perfect  regularity,  but  in  a  dissimilarity  of 
height  that  is  most  artistic.  The  tower,  nearly  two 
hundred  feet  high,  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  curious 
as  well  as  most  beautiful  in  France.  It  has  four  square 
stories,  the  first  with  closed  window  spaces,  the  last 
three  with  many  open  windows  which  give  it  a  graceful 
lightness;  and  above  these  stories  is  a  stepped  pyramid 
which  bears  the  columns  that,  in  their  turn,  uphold 
the  cap-like  roof.  In  all  this  variet}'  of  size  combined 
with  similarity  in  general  forms  there  is  exquisite 
harmony  and  ])roportion,  and  the  exterior  is  ver}'' 
impressive,  strangely  exotic,  and  very  wonderful. 

It  may  be  impossible  to  believe  that  the  rounded 


THE  GRANDEUR  OF  ITS  INTERIOR,  .  .  IMPOSING  ...  BY  ITS 
VASTNESS,  BY  THE  IMMENSITY  OF  ITS  LINES,  AND  BY  THE  ALMOST 
TERRIBLE   SIMPLICITY   OF   ITS   NUDE   STONE." PERIGUEUX. 


185 


Limoges.  187 

arches  of  this  church  will  ever  again  be  restored,  it  may 
be  too  much  to  hope  that  time  will  soon  soften  the 
false  newness  of  its  stone,  but  perhaps,  in  the  not  too 
distant  future,  its  Cloister  will  be  again  made  whole 
and  Saint-Front  itself  be  surrounded  by  a  great  open 
space  befitting  its  importance.  But  whether  these 
things  shall  come  to  pass  or  not,  the  Cathedral  has, 
in  spite  of  all,  successfully  defied  its  foes — ^from  the 
Huguenots,  who  were  the  least  in  power,  to  Monsieur 
Abadie,  the  greatest, — ^for  in  its  daring  immensity, 
in  its  extraordinary  form,  its  external  splendour,  and 
the  grandeur  of  its  interior,  it  is  still — and  in  spite  of 
all — one  of  the  most  imposing  and  remarkable  churches 
of  Europe. 

In  the  legendary  age  of  Gallic  Christianity, 
^,  when  Saints  over  all  France  were  killing 

dragons  and  convertmg  pagans,  bamt 
Martial  broke  the  idols  of  the  Temple  of 
Jupiter  at  Limoges  and  "made  it  a  Temple  of  the 
Redeemer."  This  building,  which  tradition  mentions 
without  describing,  was  unfortunately  destroyed  in 
some  of  the  Vandal  invasions.  "If,"  wrote  Saint 
Prosper  of  Aquitaine  in  the  V  century,  with  piteous 
eloquence,  "the  entire  ocean  had  swept  over  the  fields 
of  Gaul,  its  vast  waves  would  have  spared  more  monu- 
ments. ...  All  that  could  be  suffered  we  have  en- 
dured. .  .  .  Neither  castles  built  on  ragged  peaks, 
nor  places  situated  on  the  summits  of  mountains,  nor 


1 88  Aquitaine. 

cities  protected  by  large  rivers,  nothing  escaped  the 
cunning  of  the  barbarians  or  .  .  .  their  fur}^" 

The  Christians  of  Limoges  re-built  their  church  in 
the  more  orthodox  form  of  a  Latin  basilica,  but  Saint 
Prosper's  description  of  early  incursions  portrays  only 
too  faithfully  the  raids  and  wanton  pillages  of  suc- 
ceeding invaders,  and  the  Latin  basilica  was  destroyed 
in  its  turn.  Undaunted,  the  Faithful  began  another 
reconstruction  and,  at  the  beginning  of  the  XIII  cen- 
tury, their  Bishop  celebrated  in  a  completed  Roman- 
esque Cathedral. 

In  his  History  of  Saint  Elisabeth  Mcntalembert,  ar- 
dent apologist  of  the  Church  and  all  her  works,  describes 
this  epoch  in  these  eloquent,  idealistic  words:  "During 
the  XIII  century  the  Catholic  Church  reigned  over 
Europe  by  the  triple  ascendency  of  genius,  holiness, 
and  temporal  power.  It  was  the  century  of  Innocent 
III, — the  Papacy  exercised  a  sovereign  influence  in 
political  affairs.  It  was  the  century  of  Saint  Louis, — 
when  royalty,  as  Saint  Ferdinand  of  Spain,  Saint 
Elisabeth  of  Hungary,  and  Saint  Louis  of  France,  added 
to  the  glory  of  the  crown  the  greater  glory  of  holiness. 
It  was  the  century  of  Saint  Thomas  Aquinas, — when 
Albert  the  Great  and  the  Angelic  Doctor,  Saint  Bona- 
ventura  and  Roger  Bacon,  shed  upon  religion  the 
external  lustre  of  science.  It  was  the  century  of  Saint 
Francis  of  Assisi  and  of  Saint  Dominic, — religious  and 
chivalrous  Orders  filled  Europe  like  powerful  armies 
and  contributed   an  extraordinary  vigour  to  human 


THE    SIDE   AISLE    OF    "  '  A   SPLENDID   CATHEDRAL       ...        AN    IMMORTAL 

MASTERPIECE   OF   CHRISTIAN   ART.'  " LIMOGES. 

189 


Limoges.  191 

thought.  In  this  general  movement  of  ideas,  Christian 
architecture  could  not  remain  stationary.  It  was 
then  that  splendid  Cathedrals  arose,  immortal  master- 
pieces of  Christian  art." 

Those  who  read  history  without  enthusiastic  partisan- 
ship find  that  in  this  XIII  century  Saint  Dominic  and 
his  great  religious  Order  gave  "extraordinary  vigour 
to  human  thought"  by  the  instruments  of  Inquisition 
and  through  hideous  torture  of  the  human  body;  when 
Saint  Ferdinand  of  Spain's  claim  to  holiness  was  also 
a  claim  to  the  title  of  bigot;  and  when  the  "teaching" 
of  Bacon,  which  "gave  to  religion  the  external  lustre 
of  science,"  was  solemnly  condemned  in  Paris  by  the 
assembled  dignitaries  of  his  Order;  when  for  these 
teachings,  "certain  suspected  novelties,"  the  General 
of  the  Franciscans — ^afterwards  Pope — threw  Bacon  in- 
to prison;  and  when  on  account  of  them,  both  Pope 
Nicholas  III  and  Pope  Nicholas  IV  "decided  that  he 
was  too  dangerous  to  be  at  large."  After  he  had 
emerged  from  his  ecclesiastical  prison  at  the  age  of 
eighty,  it  is  small  wonder  that  he  sighed,  ' '  Would  that 
I  had  not  given  myself  so  much  trouble  for  the  love 
of  science,"  that  science  which  "shed  lustre  tipon 
religion. ' ' 

The  XIII  century  was  a  period  of  outward  glory 
but  of  internal  decay;  and  far  from  presaging  the  dark 
years  of  struggle  which  lay  before  the  Church,  the 
Popes  continued  to  live  according  to  the  joyous  resolu- 
tion of  Leo  X.     In  churchly  architecture  the  Gothic  was 


192  Aquitaine. 

supreme;  the  most  beautiful  Cathedrals  in  the  world, 
Notre-Dame  of  Amiens,  of  Chartres,  of  Bourges,  of 
Beauvais,  and  of  Rouen,  were  rising;  Clermont  in  the 
Midland  was  being  built;  in  the  South,  Narbonne  had 
been  begun;  and  the  prelates  of  Limoges,  who  had  only 
a  Cathedral  of  Romanesque  form,  began  to  find  it  "of 
bad  taste  and  vulgar  workmanship,"  "neither  suffi- 
ciently beautiful  nor  proper  in  form  or  shape,"  and  in 
1273  the  first  stone  of  a  new  choir  was  laid. 

"A  Cathedral,"  writes  one  of  the  old  Canons  of 
Limoges,  "is  not  the  creation  of  a  man  but  of  ages," 
and  certainly  no  work  is  more  dependent  on  every 
wind  of  doctrine  and  fervour.  The  choir  of  Saint - 
Etienne  was  finished  in  fifty  years;  the  rest  of  the 
church  dragged  through  centuries.  Some  continuation 
was  attempted  during  the  reign  of  Clement  VI,  a  native 
of  the  diocese,  but  this  prelate  had  none  of  the  great 
architectural  ambitions  of  Clement  V,  and  contented 
himself  with  a  spiritual  donation  of  an  Indulgence. 
During  his  reign  the  south  transept,  economically  left 
in  its  small,  Romanesque  breadth  and  length,  was 
probably  heightened  and  given  a  rose-window  and  a 
new  portal.  Then  the  wars  between  France  and  Eng- 
land, in  which  the  Bishop  became  embroiled  as  tem- 
poral lord,  put  a  stop  to  further  construction,  and 
Froissart  says  that  when  the  Black  Prince  took  the 
city,  "there  is  no  man  so  hard  of  heart  that,  if  he  had 
.  .  .  thought  of  God,  he  would  not  have  wept  tenderly 
.  .  .  for  the  three  thousand  persons  of  all  ages  and 


Limoges.  193 

both  sexes  killed  that  day  .  .  .  for  they  were  truly 
martyrs." 

In  the  XV  century  one  of  the  large  bays  of  the  old 
nave  was  torn  down  and  two  Gothic  bays  were  erected 
in  its  place,  and  the  beautiful  north  transept  was  built 
in  the  XVI  century.  Then  the  work  was  again  sus- 
pended. The  See  was  occupied  by  an  Italian  whose 
"intendant" — another  Italian — ^was  so  infamous  that 
he  was  tried  and  burned  in  effigy  before  the  Cathedral- 
church.  Protestantism  had  also  grown  to  terrifying 
strength,  the  Renaissance  introduced  pagan  sentiments 
among  the  clergy,  always  the  heart  of  the  Church,  and 
all  architectural  ambitions  were  soon  extinguished  in 
the  Wars  of  Religion. 

The  Wars  ceased  and  the  years  went  on;  the  misery 
of  the  poor  increased  with  the  increasing  infamies  of 
the  great.  Voltaire  sneered,  the  Revolution  killed; 
and  ecclesiastical  architecture,  fallen  elsewhere  to  low 
estate,  happily  ceased  in  Limoges  until  the  XIX  cen- 
tury when  artistic  taste  had  become  more  enlightened. 
Then,  in  consonance  with  the  first  Gothic  bays,  five 
more  were  added  to  the  nave,  and  it  was  joined  by  an 
enclosed  porch  to  the  old  Romanesque  tower  which 
surmounts  the  western  portal;  and  at  last,  after  six 
centuries,  the  Cathedral  of  Limoges  became  a  finished 
whole. 

The  city  lies  in  amphitheatre  on  the  hillside  above 
the  river  Vienne  and  to-da}^  forms  one,  conglomerate 
whole;  but  in  the  Middle  Ages  it  fonned  two  distinct, 


104  Aquitaine. 

contiguous  towns, — the  Castle  of  Saint-Martial  sur- 
rounded b}^  walls  and  moats,  and  the"Cit^"  of  Saint- 
Stephen  built  about  the  Cathedral,  and  also  surrounded 
by  walls  and  moats.  The  "Cit^"  is  now  the  poorer 
part  of  Limoges,  the  home  of  artisans  and  workmen, 
and,  as  the  traveller  climbed  its  narrow  streets,  he  saw 
men  and  women  sitting  gloomily  by  their  open  win- 
dows, he  brushed  against  a  few  tipsy  strikers,  and 
heard  oaths  and  complaints,  from  which  he  emerged 
into  the  quiet  little  square  of  the  Cathedral  and  looked 
up  at  the  calm  strength  of  its  walls.  A  fog  had  de- 
scended over  Limoges;  and  leaning  against  a  gate, 
peering  from  beneath  his  umbrella  at  the  upper  galleries 
of  the  tow^er,  the  traveller  was  startled  by  the  sound  of 
a  long  "toot"  and  stepped  into  a  doorway  as  an  auto- 
mobile whizzed  up  the  narrow  street  and  stopped 
abruptly  before  the  church.  Without  a  glance  to 
right  or  left  a  party  of  four  descended  and  darted 
under  the  portal.  The  traveller,  partly  because  it  was 
becoming  very  damp,  partly  because  he  felt  a  growing 
proprietorship  in  Saint-Etienne,  followed  to  enjoy  their 
pleasure  in  its  beauty,  and  arrived  just  in  time  to  see 
the  blank,  polite  expression  on  the  gentlemen's  faces 
and  to  hear  these  words  in  a  high,  pleasant  voice, 

"Oh,  I  am  not  tired  of  them  yet,  we  haven't  such 
fine  churches  in  our  country,"  and  to  catch  the  low 
reply, 

"In  England  we  have  finer  things  than  this,  and  as 
for  Cathedrals  they  are  all  pretty  much  alike  you  know^." 


THE  SLENDER,  CLUSTERED  COLUMNS,  THE  LARGE  WINDOWS,  THE  HIGH 
ARCHES  OF  THE  NAVE,  AND  THE  NARROWER  ARCHES  OF  THE  CHOIR 
SEEM   TO  HAVE  BEEN   BUILT  WITH  A  SINGLE  THOUGHT." LIMOGES. 


195 


Limoges.  1 97 

The  party  then  walked  down  a  side  aisle  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  Sacristy  where  three  minutes  sufficed 
for  the  wonderful  little  enamels.  They  returned  by 
the  same  way  they  had  entered ;  and  when  the  traveller 
had  gathered  together  his  slow  wits  and  reached  the 
door  to  see  in  what  strange  manner  they  would  look 
at  the  exterior,  the  automobile  had  started  down  the 
narrow  street.  They  had  not  looked  at  the  exterior 
at  all,  they  had  not  even  whirled  about  the  little 
square. 

The  traveller  slowly  re-entered  and  sat  down  to 
catch  his  breath.  He  saw  some  justice  in  the  words 
of  the  Englishwoman,  the  interior  was  in  many  ways 
"like"  other  interiors, — it  had  transepts,  a  nave,  aisles, 
choir,  ambulatory,  and  chapels,  in  the  usual  form  of  a 
Latin  Cross, — ^but  a  beautiful  conception  is  contained 
in  this  Gothic  sameness.  The  slender,  clustered  col- 
umns, the  little  capitals,  the  triforium,  and  the  large 
windows,  the  high  arches  of  the  nave,  and  the  narrower 
arches  of  the  choir  seem  to  have  been  built  with  a 
single  thought,  towards  the  realisation  of  one,  fixed 
ideal.  It  is  not  majestic  like  Clermont;  it  is  more 
simply  beautiful  than  the  choir  of  Moulins;  and  without 
the  extravagances  of  the  Flamboyant,  it  is  also  without 
the  crudities  of  the  earlier  Gothic.  Fine  loftiness  is 
not  among  its  attributes;  it  does  not  surprise  or  astound; 
but  with  the  mellow  tone  of  its  yellow-brown  stone  and 
its  lines  combined  in  perfect  harmony  of  proportion,  it 
has   attained   an   exquisite   beauty,    and   the   eye   is 


198 


Aquitaine. 


charmed  and  satisfied  as  with  the  calm  perfection  and 

simpHcity  of  the  classic. 

Far  from  possessing  the  harmony  of  the  interior, 

the  exterior  of  the  Cathedral  is  more  interesting  in  its 

differing  details 
than  in  its  whole. 
The  most  promi- 
nent feature  is  the 
great,  single  tower 
— which,  happily, 
has  been  preserved 
through  many 
vears  of  wars — and 
consists  of  a  mas- 
sive, Romanesque 
base,  recalling  the 
fortified  style  of 
the  South,  crown- 
ed with  four  stories 
of  long  Gothic  win- 
dows built  in 
stone,  but  light 
and  svelte  as  Pam- 


THIS   TOWER   SEEMS    LIKE   THE   TALL      SHAFT 
OF    AN     ANTIQUE     COLUMN     PLACED   ON    A    GI- 
GANTIC   BLOCK.  '  " LIMOGES. 


iers     or     Lavaur. 

From  the  river  or 
the  heights  of  the  city,  this  tall  shaft  * '  appearing  in 
severe  majesty,  sharp  cut  against  the  sky ,"  as  Arbellot 
has  finely  written,  "seems  like  the  shaft  of  an  antique 
column  placed  on  a  gigantic  block."     Seen  in  closer 


THE   TOMB   OF  A   BISHOP,   WHICH       .       .       .       STANDS  IN  MUTILATED  SPLEN- 
DOUR."  LIMOGES. 


199 


Limoges.  201 

view  the  disparity  between  it  and  the  body  of  the 
Cathedral  becomes  more  marked;  and  with  the  south 
transept,  the  lateral  walls  with  their  two  stories  of 
Gothic  windows  and  balconies,  and  the  apse  whose 
flying  buttresses  are  merely  large  and  strong,  it  is  often 
neglected  for  the  north  transept. 

This  beautiful  Flamboyant  wall  may  be  divided 
according  to  the  periods  of  its  creation;  first,  the  portal 
of  15 17,  then  the  central  gallery  and  its  rose- window 
which  were  built  a  few  years  later,  and  finally  the 
terminating  gable  and  the  turrets  which  were  added 
in  the  XIX  century.  To  the  captious  mind,  this 
charming,  harmonious  construction  shows  the  weakness 
of  an  art  which  would  place  so  fragile  a  piece  of  decora- 
tive sculpture  on  outer  walls  that  should  normally 
appear  strong  and  protecting  as  well  as  beautiful. 
In  spite  of  this  defect  the  transept  is  a  delight  to  the 
eye,  lace-like  in  its  delicate  beauty.  It  belongs  to  the 
art  of  carving  rather  than  to  architecture  and  has  been 
well  called  "the  most  beautiful  page  in  the  histor}^ 
of  Limousin  sculpture." 

Besides  these  structural  details  of  Saint-Etienne 
there  are  many  ornamental  parts  which,  illuminating 
the  past  of  the  Cathedral,  of  the  Church  and  its  sym- 
bolism, add  greatly  to  the  traveller's  interest.  Like 
the  sky,  the  glass  in  the  windows  of  the  ambulatory 
chapels  shades  from  dark  to  light  blue;  tombs  of 
Bishops,  which  have  escaped  the  destruction  of  several 
generations  of  Vandals,  stand  in  mutilated  splendour. 


202  Aquitaine. 

The  rood-screen  has  been  removed  from  its  proper 
liturgical  position  at  the  entrance  of  the  choir  and 
placed  at  the  back  of  the  nave.  It  is  much  defaced 
and  is  not  comparable  to  the  screen  of  Saint-Etienne- 
du-Mont  nor  to  that  of  Sainte-Cecile  of  Albi ;  but  apart 
from  its  weak,  capricious  exuberance  of  ornamentation 
it  is  interesting  in  its  exhibition  of  the  pagan  spirit 
which  had  contaminated  the  Church  of  the  XVI 
century.  Former!}-  it  was  decorated  with  statues  of 
Saint  Peter  and  Saint  Paul,  Saint  Jerome,  Saint  Augus- 
tine, and  other  noble  Fathers  of  the  Latin  Church; 
near  them  were  the  symbolic  figures  of  the  theological 
and  cardinal  Virtues;  but,  more  richly  expressed  than 
all,  were  the  Labours  of  Hercules.  That  these  strangely 
pagan  subjects  were  not  the  mere  fancies  of  the  sculptor, 
profanely  introduced  into  the  sanctity  of  the  church, 
is  proven  by  a  most  solemn  memorial,  an  epitaph 
placed  there  in  15 16  to  the  memor}'  of  Jean  Gayot 
de  Bastide,  a  member  of  the  reverend  clerg>'.  This 
epitaph — unfortunately  removed  during  the  Revolu- 
tion— ran  thus, 

"  He  was  the  most  distinguished  of  priests, 
And  at  the  same  time  the  first  among  singers. 
But  these  things  make  no  impression  on  the  gods. 
The  Fates,  who  spare  no  one,  have  removed  him, 

And  he  has  become  dust. 
Traveller,  as  thou  leavest  say  to  these  ashes 

'  May  you  enjoy  a  long  repose. '  " 

The  ancient  windows  which  remain  are  of  much  the 


Limoges.  203 

same  epoch  as  the  epitaph  and  the  screen,  but  they 
do  not  partake  of  their  frank  paganism.  Like  the 
beautiful  enamels  in  the  Sacristy,  they  fittingly  portray 
the  scenes  of  Christian  history  and  tradition,  and  are 
worthy  of  much  study  from  those  who  love  the  lost 
art  of  painted  glass. 

Another  part  of  the  Cathedral  which  is  very  inter- 
esting to  those  who  find  the  key  that  unlocks  its  door 
is  the  crypt.  These  old,  subterranean  chapels  were 
so  often  abandoned  that,  more  than  many  other  por- 
tions of  the  church,  they  have  preserved  something 
of  the  form  and  style  of  the  earlier  edifices  which  were 
destroyed  or  torn  down  to  make  way  for  the  later 
Gothic  creations. 

The  crypt  of  Saint-Etienne  is  one  of  these  ancient 
constructions,  said  to  be  a  reproduction  of  the  choir  of 
the  Latin  or  the  Romanesque  church,  a  sanctuary  with 
low  cylindrical  columns  which  bear  the  heavy  vault. 
It  brings  to  mind  the  early  days  of  Christianity  whose 
habit  of  worshipping  underground  persisted  long  after 
its  necessity  had  passed  away.  The  mural  frescoes 
of  the  Virgin,  the  Angel  Gabriel,  and  other  figures  are 
mysterious  and  defaced,  and  a  Christ  painted  on  the 
vaulting  is  ver}^  curious.  The  tiny  Saint — ^probably 
the  Magdalene — who  lies  at  His  feet,  the  composition 
of  the  central  figure,  and  the  surrounding  symbols  of 
the  four  Evangelists  are  crude;  but  the  rare  colour  of 
the  cloak  of  Jesus,  the  "lapis  lazuli"  of  the  ancients, 
is  perfectly  preserved,  and  this  detail,  originally  insig- 


204  Aquitaine. 

nificant,  has  become  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  hidden, 
old  fresco.  The  side  walls  of  the  crypt  have  also  dim, 
painted  figures,  and  it  is  a  pity  that  the  waU-cs  should 
not  be  cleared  and  that  the  little,  underground  church 
should  not  be  opened  again. 

After  a  fashion  of  olden  days  it  was  planned  to  paint 
not  only  the  cr}'pt  but  the  whole  upper  church  as  well. 
Fortunately  this  plan  was  not  entirely  carried  out; 
and  as  the  beginnings  which  were  made  do  not  dis- 
turb the  whole  effect  they  are  interesting  because  of 
their  antiquity  and  ecclesiastical  s^mibolism.  To  the 
Middle  Ages  every  curve,  ever\'  line,  every  form  of 
the  Gothic  church  had  its  meaning,  and  as  the  vault  of 
the  Cathedral  was  a  symbol  of  the  arch  of  heaven,  the 
artist  painted  there  the  figures  of  heavenly  inhabitants, 
angels  who  "praise  the  Lord"  and  reminded  the 
Christian  who  entered  below  of  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist-king,  "I  will  praise  Thee,  O  Lord,  with  my 
whole  heart,  ...  I  will  sing  praise  unto  Thee  in  the 
sight  of  the  Angels,  I  will  worship  towards  Thy  holy 
temple,  and  give  glor>^  unto  Thy  name."  This  re- 
ligious suggestiveness  is  continued  in  the  portal  of  the 
north  transept  where,  beneath  the  statue  of  Christ, 
the  door  opens  in  two  bays  to  signify  His  divine  and 
His  human  nature  united  in  the  Incarnation.  Those 
who  care  to  follow  Limoges's  particular  development 
of  religious  suggestion  can  find  many  another  example 
within  its  walls. 

These  are  some  of  the  many  details  which  lie  in 


Angouleme.  205 

every  old  Cathedral  and  are,  as  it  were,  the  stories  of 
olden  times  which  it  is  ready  to  tell  to  the  modem 
who  wanders  lovingly  about  its  many  nooks  and 
comers.  They  are,  however,  only  details  and  do  not 
give  Limoges  the  distinction  which  places  it  among 
the  most  exquisite  Gothic  monuments  of  France. 
Nor  is  that  distinction  to  be  found  in  the  exterior, 
interesting  in  many  parts,  preserved  in  all  its  develop- 
ments of  st3des,  but  for  that  very  reason  lacking  in 
essential  harmony.  It  is  in  the  unity,  the  proportions, 
the  grace  of  the  interior  that  perfection  is  most  nearly 
approached,  and  it  is  this  interior  which  may  be  com- 
pared with  Amiens  and  Beauvais,  as  a  flawless  cameo 
to  a  marvellously  sculptured  head;  and  it  must  have 
been  here  that  Father  Bonaventura,  in  the  XVI  century, 
prophetically  exclaimed,  "If  this  church  were  finished 
it  would  rival  the  most  beautiful  churches  in  France." 

Like    Rodez,    Lectoure,    and   Auch,    An- 

_  ,^         gouleme  is  an  ancient  stronghold  securely 

HuGOUleme.  f  .^  .  ,.        ^ 

built  on  an  emmence,  one  01  those  nne 

old   hill-towns   of   France  which   are  not 

only  beautiful  in  situation,  but  quaint  in  legend  and 

history,  and  remarkable  for  some  relic  or  monument 

which  they  have  been  happy  enough  to  rescue  from 

the  ruins  of  their  past. 

Except  in  its  museums,  Angouleme  has  preserved 

no  traces  of  Roman  times,   its  mediaeval  aspect  has 

also  disappeared  in  great  measure,  and  it  is  now  a  large 


2o6  .  Aquitaine. 

and  pleasant  town  with  an  atmosphere  of  provincial 
tranquillity.  One  can  bargain  long  and  wittily  in  the 
market-place,  purchase  ever}^  ornament  and  necessity 
of  life  in  the  small,  discreet  shops  of  the  narrow  streets; 
and  after  these  arduous  duties  are  accomplished,  the 
broad,  quiet  boulevards  which  encircle  the  city  along 
the  lines  of  the  old  ramparts  tempt  to  meditative 
walks. 

From  the  edge  of  the  narrow  plateau  on  which  the 
city  lies,  the  traveller  saw  a  fertile  country^  of  fields 
and  hamlets,  of  other  rocky  plateaus  and  little  hills; 
a  tiny  stream,  the  Anguienne,  is  bordered  by  rows  of 
poplars,  and  the  larger  Charente  flows  slowly  through 
its  meadows  until  it  is  lost  in  the  misty  horizon.  Look- 
ing below  the  city  he  caught  glimpses  of  the  prosperous 
suburbs  of  Angouleme  which  mark  its  modem  growth 
and  industries.  Memories  of  events  far  removed  from 
things  of  modem  times  arose.  A  big,  round  tower  sent 
his  fancy  back  to  lords  and  ladies  of  a  tiny  court. 
There,  in  the  shady  square,  is  a  statue  of  the  wittiest 
among  them;  Marguerite  of  Angouleme;  beyond, 
hidden  by  the  branches  of  the  trees,  is  a  grotto  where, 
in  the  earliest  Christian  days,  a  pious  hermit  lived  and 
prayed;  and,  finally,  there  is  the  strangely  beautiful 
and  impressive  Cathedral.  At  the  sight  of  these 
relics  of  the  past,  stories  of  old  Angouleme  come 
trooping  to  the  mind. 

This  city,  which  lay  secure  within  high  walls,  grew 
ver\'  slowly  and  was  never  very  large.     During  the 


Angouleme. 


207 


Middle  Ages  it  was  divided  into  three  sections,  and,  as 
in  the  Estates  of  France,  these  divisions  were  founded 
on  caste.  There  was  the  great  castle  of  the  Lords  of 
Angouleme  and  its  numerous  dependencies;  another 
quarter,  where  the  Cathedral  and  four  other  churches 
were  grouped,  and 
in  which  the  clergy 
very  naturally  con- 
gregated;  and, 
finally,  the  section 
where  the  "city 
fathers,"  the  bur- 
ghers, and  the  peo- 
ple lived.  Far  from 
dwelling  together 
in  either  solidarity 
or  community,  the 
inhabitants  of 
these  three  divis- 
ions seem  to  have 
been  in  a  constant 
condition  of  jeal- 
ous suspicion  or 
strife,  and  to  have 
continued  behind  the  same  walls  only  because  there 
was  greater  danger  without. 

The  Bishops  were  often  younger  sons  of  the  great 
families  of  the  neighbotiring  country,  and  having  in- 
herited the  lust  for  possessions  and  power,  they  aspired 


JK^^    .    -'r   ■ 

"*'                    IT. 

>»Ji-.'    *" 

i^^    .„ 

..'V.ip,  .  ^ 

El 

'^''j^^mMm^ 

WW  - 

fe  V*. 

fh  - 

•W^gl 

BsflMMBl^' 

^ 

-  ^•■'.- '  '-  •  -  • 

IHI 

IN  THE  SHADY  SQUARE  IS  A  STATUE  OF  THE 
WITTIEST  AMONG  THEM,  MARGUERITE  OF 
ANGOULEME." 


2o8  Aquitaine. 

not  only  to  acquire  spiritual  honours  but  to  become 
mighty  feudal  lords  as  well.  In  the  pursuit  of  this 
ambition  they  naturally  came  into  contact  with  the 
Counts  of  the  city,  a  contact  which  was  not  only  violent, 
but  so  habitual  that  even  when  one  brother  ruled  in 
the  castle  and  another  in  the  episcopal  Palace,  the 
struggles  between  castle  and  Palace  continued. 

The  temporal  lords  of  Angouleme,  lacking  the  reve- 
nues which  the  Bishops  received  in  the  offerings  of 
the  Church,  endeavoured  to  enrich  themselves  by  im- 
posing taxes  on  the  people;  and  the  people,  obliged  to 
contribute  to  the  cause  of  religion,  to  pay  certain  tithes 
to  my  Lord  Bishop,  and  to  assist  my  Lord  Count,  were 
in  a  fair  way  to  be  mulcted  by  every  one.  In  self- 
preservation  they,  too,  entered  the  conflict  and  con- 
tributed to  the  general  turbulence.  They  remembered 
that,  like  Reims,  Bourges,  Toulouse,  and  Marseilles, 
they  could  claim  to  have  possessed  the  right  of  justice 
before  the  monarchy  existed.  Roman,  law  still  held 
in  the  guise  of  "custom,"  and  the  civic  body  of  the 
little  town  was  composed  of  a  mayor,  twelve  stewards, 
twelve  councillors,  and  seventy-five  worthies  who  were 
called  "peers."  Notwithstanding  this  majestic  body 
of  governing  citizens,  the  official  protection  of  the 
Counts,  and  the  presence  of  the  Bishops,  Angouleme 
was  not  a  progressive  city.  The  private  preoccupa- 
tions of  its  rulers,  their  pett3%  private  wars,  and  their 
part  in  the  national  struggle  against  the  anglicised 
Plantagenets,  were  engrossing,  and  the  internal  con- 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  THE  BALCONY  OF  THE  PALACE  OF  THE    BISHOPS. 

ANGOULEME. 


209 


Angouleme.  211 

dition  of  the  town  was  such  that  the  following  advice 
was  given  to  pedestrians  by  a  contemporary : 

"The  wa3rfarer  vshould  avoid  the  props  which  are  in 
front  of  shops  and  should  take  care  not  to  knock 
against  any  lean-to  which  may  be  placed  too  low.  He 
must  be  careful  not  only  of  his  head  but  of  his  feet,  for 
the  cellars  have  .  .  .  openings  which  extend  over 
one-third  of  the  street,  and  their  wooden  trap-doors 
rot  in  the  long  run  and  give  way  under  the  weight  of 
passers-by.  .  .  .  Spouts  permit  the  rain  to  fall  from 
the  roof  drop  by  drop  unless  a  gargoyle  is  there  to 
throw  water  into  the  street  in  floods,  whereupon, 
not  being  paved,  they  become  mud-holes  or  creeks." 
Everyone  put  the  dirt  and  debris  of  his  house  into  the 
middle  of  the  street,  and  the  refuse  of  the  Bishop's 
stable  was  regularly  placed  in  the  public  square.  At 
night  when  there  was  no  moon  the  city  was  in  complete 
darkness. 

In  the  XVI  century  an  effort  was  made  to  induce 
the  inhabitants  to  pave  and  sweep  the  ground  directly 
in  front  of  their  own  dwellings,  "and  each  mayor  .  .  . 
placed  in  his  platform  the  purchase  of  a  garbage  cart 
after  which,"  continues  Monsieur  Lievre,  historian  of 
the  town,  "each  left  to  his  successor  the  honour  of 
realising  this  progress. "  In  the  comparatively  modern 
days  of  1776  the  nocturnal  brawls  and  disorders  which 
had  distinguished  the  nights  of  the  Middle  Ages  still 
took  place  in  the  dark  streets  of  Angouleme.  In  that 
year  the  stewards  decided  to  try  the  effect  of  light  and 


212  Aquitaine. 

voted  the  purchase  of  three  lanterns;  in  1778  "there 
was  some  talk  of  placing  them  in  the  streets:  but  since 
that  time  of  radical  change  the  strides  of  Angouleme 
towards  modernity  have  been  so  rapid  and  genuine  that 
it  has  fewer  traces  of  Mediaevalism  than  almost  any 
other  of  the  hill-towns  of  France. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  Bishops  of  Angouleme 
had  entire  jurisdiction  over  the  episcopal  section  of 
the  city,  together  with  an  especial  prison  and  instru- 
ments of  torture,  they  seem  to  have  been  interested  in 
the  numerous  privileges  their  power  bestowed  rather 
than  in  any  onerous  duties  it  entailed.  During  two 
weeks  of  every  year  the  retail  selling  of  wine  in  the 
city,  the  suburbs,  and  the  domain  of  Vars,  belonged 
to  m}^  Lord  Bishop;  and  when  he  did  not  sell  the  privi- 
lege, one  of  his  retainers  served  the  episcopal  customers 
in  some  discreet  comer  of  the  Palace.  His  Grace's  cook 
had  the  right  to  one  piece  of  china  from  the  pack  of 
every  animal  which  carried  wares  from  the  factories  of 
Blanzac  to  the  gates  of  Angouleme.  When  a  rector 
of  the  diocese  died,  my  Lord  himself  graciously  con- 
sented to  inherit  the  donkey  and  the  breviary  of  the 
deceased,  and  the  succeeding  rector  indemnified  him- 
self by  taking  the  bed  of  every  householder  who  died 
in  the  parish.  At  Pentecost,  after  Vespers,  the  Bishop 
also  graciously  accepted  from  each  bridal  couple  of  the 
preceding  year  four  leather  skins.  This  ceremony  took 
place  in  the  presence  of  the  Seneschals,  other  officers, 
and  all  the  people  who  cared  to  witness  it;  and  the 


Angouleme.  213 

couples  who  failed  to  appear  were  then  and  there 
sentenced  to  send  as  forfeit  a  whole  cask  of  wine. 

These  and  other  little  "rights"  were  but  sources 
of  amusement  and  pocket-money.  The  Bishops  had 
far  more  serious  temporal  occupations.  They  owned 
domains  and  chateaux,  a  fortress,  a  summer  house, 
a  hunting-box,  they  possessed  many  fiefs,  and  at  the 
death  of  every  lordling,  they  were  obliged  to  receive  the 
new  vassal  or  to  compel  him  to  pay  homage  both  in 
person  and  in  gifts  of  candles  or — more  acceptably — 
of  gilded  spurs  or  white  gloves.  The  prelates  had  also 
the  privilege  of  going  at  any  time  to  the  castles  of  their 
feudatories,  of  demanding  all  the  keys  from  gate  to 
dungeon  and  wine-cellar,  of  temporarily  dismissing 
the  vassal,  his  family,  and  his  servants,  and  of  staying 
at  the  expense  of  the  dispossessed  lordling  until  it 
pleased  them  to  depart. 

All  these  privileges,  so  agreeable  when  they  were 
peacefully  acknowledged,  became  at  times  sources  of 
annoyance.  At  one  time  the  Count  of  Angouleme  so 
far  forgot  himself  as  to  defy  the  Church  in  terms  of  its 
own  phraseology,  priests  were  obliged  to  leave  the  city, 
the  Bishop  found  its  gates  closed  in  his  very  face,  and 
the  people  were  forbidden  "to  sell  or  give  anything  at 
all,  bread,  wine,  or  meat,  to  clerics,  their  relatives,  or 
their  servants;  ...  to  carry  them  water  from  river, 
creek,  or  fountain;  ...  to  till  their  ground,  to  trim 
their  vines,  to  shoe  their  horses,  or  ...  to  render 
them  anv  service  whatsoever." 


2 1 4  Aquitaine 

In  spite  of  these  lapses  from  reverence  and  respect, 
the  episcopal  state  was  pompously  maintained  through- 
out the  feudal  period.  At  his  first  entrance  into  the 
city  the  new  Bishop  was  received  by  the  most  im- 
portant citizens.  First  they  rendered  him  homage 
before  the  altar  of  the  Church  of  Saint- Ausone;  he  then 
mounted  the  sacred  throne,  and  the  proud  Lords  of  La 
Rochefoucauld,  La  Rochaudr}'',  Montmoreau,  and  Mont- 
bron  took  the  poles  of  this  throne  in  their  hands  and 
carried  him  through  the  streets  and  into  the  Cathedral. 

In  the  XVI  century,  Hugue  de  Bauza,  newly  elevated, 
found  himself  in  an  embarrassing  position.  The 
domain  of  Montbron  had  passed  to  the  Valois  of 
Angouleme,  and  the  lord  on  whom  devolved  the  duty 
of  csLTvymg  one  fourth  of  the  episcopal  weight  was 
no  less  a  person  than  the  future  King  of  France,  the 
royal,  d^bonnaire  Francis  I.  Fortunately  the  prince 
was  but  a  boy  and  represented  by  his  mother,  Louise 
of  Savoy.  Women  rendered  homage  to  the  Bishop 
and  gave  him  the  kiss  of  fealty  by  proxy;  and  thus 
everybody's  dignity — royal,  feminine,  and  episcopal — 
was  preserved,  and  my  Lord  de  Bauza  made  an  appro- 
priate and  solemn  entry  into  his  Cathedral-church. 

At  this  period  Saint-Pierre  was  at  the  height  of  its 
architectural  perfection.  Its  walls  and  domes  were 
wholly  built,  its  great  facade  entirely  sculptured,  and 
over  its  transepts  rose  two  great  towers.  But  the  XVI 
century  was  the  era  of  destruction,  not  of  building; 
it  was  a  period  of  Protestant  uprising  and  material 


A  DOOR  OF  THE  "lateral  WALLS   .   .   .   BEAUTIFULLY  BUT  MODERATELY 
DECORATED." ANGOULEME 


215 


Angouleme.  217 

revenges.  In  Angouleme  Huguenots  had  been  forced 
to  assist  at  Catholic  services  holding  lighted  candles 
and  dressed  only  in  a  chemise,  they  had  been  compelled 
to  walk  the  streets  dressed  in  the  same  humiliating 
costume,  they  had  been  dragged  into  the  ecclesiastical 
coiirts,  and  harassed  in  a  multitude  of  ways;  and  when 
their  brethren  entered  the  city  in  1569,  hot  with  the 
memory  of  these  grievances,  they  demolished  the 
Cathedral's  Gothic  tower,  ruined  its  central  lantern, 
and  hacked  the  sculptures  of  its  facade.  Their  revenge 
was  complete;  the  majestic  splendour  of  the  church 
had  departed. 

Repairs  of  the  XVII  century  were  timely  if  not  alto- 
gether happy,  Monsieur  Abadie  in  his  later  and  more 
extensive  re-building  restrained  his  taste  for  originali- 
ties; and  Saint-Pierre,  having  experienced  the  perils 
of  heretics,  revolutionists,  and  barbarous  restorers, 
at  present  exists  in  much  of  its  primitive  form. 

Like  all  the  edifices  of  Gallo-Byzantine  form  it  has 
the  interest  of  originality.  It  has  none  of  the  rather 
homely  dignity  of  Cahors,  none  of  the  quaintness  of 
Saint-  Etienne  of  Perigueux,  and  not  a  trace  of  the 
majestic  severity  and  extraordinary  contours  of  Saint- 
Front,  but  a  magnificence  and  even  an  opulence  which 
are  possessed  by  none  of  its  sister  churches. 

The  south  tower  has  never  been  re-built,  the  three 
domes  of  the  nave,  instead  of  being  externally  out- 
lined in  rounded  form,  are  covered  with  one  long  roof, 
and  the  lateral  walls  are  beautifully  but  moderately 


2l8 


Aquitaine. 


decorated.  The  dome-like  lantern  is  also  finely  formed, 
the  old  tower  of  the  north  transept  with  its  stories  of 
open  windows  has  the  grace  of  a  campanile,  and  the 
western  fagade  is  still  a  marvel  of  luxuriant  sculptures. 


THE  DOME-LIKE  LANTERN,  .  .  .  THE  OLD  TOWER  OF  THE  NORTH 
TRANSEPT,  .  .  .  AND  THE^  WESTERN  FAgADE,  ...  A  MAR- 
VEL   OF    LUXURIANT   SCULPTURES." — ANGOULfeME. 


It  is  the  facade  which  holds  the  traveller  spellbound. 
Here  is,  as  Barr  Ferree  has  truly  written,  "the  glorifi- 
cation" of  the  western  wall;  an  early  glorification  un- 


Angouleme.  219 

like  the  symmetrical  conceptions  of  the  Gothic  builders ; 
less  perfectly  planned  than  the  tiny  and  extraordinary 
fa§ade  of  Notre-Dame-la-Grande  of  Poitiers  which 
Liibke  says  is  the  work  of  a  goldsmith  rather  than  of  an 
architect;  yet,  with  crudeness  of  plan  and  disposition, 
it  is  so  astounding  and  unique,  so  powerful  and  so 
varied  in  sculptured  figure  and  decoration,  that  it  com- 
mands a  long  and  interested  study.  In  the  presen- 
tation of  his  artistic  conceptions  the  sculptor  has 
utilised  the  entire  wall.  The  Apostles  in  groups  of 
three,  and  Christ  receiving  the  incense  of  Angels, 
occupy  the  tympanums  of  the  five  lowest  arches; 
above,  Saint  Martin  gives  his  cloak  to  a  beggar  and 
Saint  Michael  is  piercing  the  dragon.  Still  higher, 
many  Prophets  and  Doctors  of  the  Law  stand  under 
rounded  niches,  and  crowning  all  is  the  figure  of  Christ, 
the  Judge,  surrounded  by  symbols  of  the  Evangelists, 
with  Angels  and  the  awakened  dead  at  His  feet.  On 
either  side  of  the  great  arch  which  shelters  Christ 
are  the  smaller  arches  that  contain  medallion  heads  of 
the"  Redeemed.  The  gable  which  surmounts  these 
sculptures  is  a  conventional  vagary  of  Monsieur  Abadie, 
and  the  iagade  is  properly  finished  by  two  low  towers 
and  their  cone-shaped  pyramids.  The  general  form 
of  the  wall  is  heavy  but  not  uncouth,  and  the  frequent 
recurrence  of  the  arches  and  the  regularity  of  their 
disposition  give  an  illusion  of  continuity  which  is  far 
irom  existing  in  the  subjects  themselves  or  in  the 
actual  composition.     The  fagade  suggests  comparisons 


220  Aquitaine. 

with  other  depictments  of  the  Last  Supper,  its  principal 
theme,  with  Chartres  and  Bazas,  with  Saint-Trophime, 
and  with  Saint-Gilles-du-Gard;  and  although  in  com- 
parison it  lacks  in  essential  unity  and  symmetry,  its 
originality  is  impressive. 

The  contrast  between  the  exterior  and  the  interior 
of  Saint-Pierre  is  so  marked  that  the  traveller,  on 
entering,  felt  a  surprise  that  was  almost  a  shock.  The 
interior  is  long  and  its  single  nave  is  amply  broad,, 
but  the  outer  walls  give  the  effect  of  enclosing  a  much 
larger  space,  the  originalities  of  the  facade  and  of  the 
disposition  of  the  high  tower  find  no  echo  in  the  interior 
where  all  is  planned  in  beautiful  regularity;  and  the 
larger  ornamental  effects  of  the  western  wall  which 
have  made  so  deep  an  impression  on  the  beholder  are 
not  reproduced. 

The  decorative  style  of  the  interior  resembles  much 
more  closely  that  of  the  lateral  walls,  where  only  bands 
and  capitals  of  finest  carving  break  the  severe  monotony 
of  the  uncut  stone.  The  stone  of  the  interior  of  the 
church  has  not  only  the  hard  newness  in  which  Abadie 
seems  to  have  delighted,  but  is  a  cold,  dead  white,  and 
is  far  from  being  in  harmony  with  the  darker  toning  of 
the  outer  stone  which  is  softened  by  age.  The  sense 
of  originality  and  irregularity  is  lost,  there  is  a  return 
to  conventionality  of  line;  lavishness  and  richness  and 
variety  of  conception  are  gone,  but  a  simplicity  which 
is  not  less  fine  takes  their  place. 

It  is  easv  to  believe  that  Warin  discovered,  as  he 


THE  LONG,  SINGLE  NAVE  HAS  THREE  DOMED  BAYS,  AND  THE  STATELY 
CURVES  OF  THE  ROUND  CROSS  ARCHES  DESCEND  AND  BREAK  .  THE 
FAR-REACHING    PERSPECTIVE." ANGOULEME. 


Angouleme.  223 

claimed,  traces  of  an  early  ground  plan,  the  Greek 
Cross;  for  in  the  interior  the  present  plan  of  the  build- 
ing, a  Latin  Cross,  becoming  more  accentuated,  more 
apparent,  presents,  with  the  domical  vaulting,  an 
unusual  combination  of  architectural  forms.  The 
long,  single  nave  has  three  domed  bays,  and  the  stately 
curve  of  their  round  cross  arches  descend  and  break 
the  far-reaching  perspective.  Massive  piers  divide 
the  bays,  and  the  side  walls  between  them  have  a 
rounded  arcade  which  is  in  harmonious  precision  with 
the  cross  arches.  Windows  cast  a  measured  and  sub- 
dued light  into  the  nave,  at  the  crossing  a  stronger 
yet  a  gentle  glow  falls  from  the  high  lantern,  and  large 
windows  in  the  rounded  apse  powerfully  and  directly 
light  the  Altar,  the  place  of  adoration.  The  south 
transept,  whose  tower  has  never  been  re-built,  is  also 
unrestored  in  the  interior,  and  the  eye  instinctively 
seeks  the  perfection  of  the  north  transept,  the  domed 
Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sacrament  which,  elevated  above 
the  flooring  of  the  body  of  the  church  and  radiantly 
lighted  by  its  upper  lantern,  is  far  more  beautiful 
and  impressive  than  the  choir. 

The  sole  architectural  ornamentation  of  the  church 
is  the  carving  of  the  capitals  and  of  the  narrow  bands. 
These  carvings,  although  not  lavish  in  quantity,  are 
both  effective  and  important;  for  they  have  a  deep- 
cut,  conventional  richness,  and  the  elegance  of  fine, 
firm,  old  lace. 

In  general  form  the  interior  of  Saint-Pierre  is  heavy. 


224  Aquitaine. 

Its  large  piers  are  broken  by  applied  columns,  but  they 
still  maintain  the  appearance  of  great  weight;  the 
hemisphere  of  the  domes  and  the  semi-circles  of  the 
apse  and  of  the  arches  are  ponderous  in  spite  of  an 
inherent  grace;  and  the  heaviness  of  the  church  would 
be  oppressive  if  it  were  not  relieved  by  the  rare  orna- 
mentation and  the  exquisite  harmonies  of  the  church's 
lights.  In  this  combination  of  moderation  of  carv- 
ing and  these  diffused  and  religious  lights,  there  is  a 
familiarity  with  architectural  methods,  a  complexity 
of  architectural  conception,  which  were  unknown  to 
the  builders  of  Cahors  and  Saint-Etienne  of  Perigueux; 
and  although  Saint-Pierre  has  not  the  majestic  nor 
awe-inspiring  severity  of  Saint-Front,  it  is,  as  it  were, 
a  more  cultivated  and  sophisticated  creation,  and  far 
more  advanced  in  the  scale  of  artistic  evolution. 

To  w^alk  about  a  Cathedral  at  noon-day,  when  wor- 
shippers are  rare  and  the  empty  building  seems  to  re- 
sound at  each  step,  is  to  invite  curious  thoughts  and 
wonderings  on  things  long  past  and  things  that  may 
be  yet  to  come.  In  the  stillness  of  the  white  churcii 
of  Angouleme,  the  mind  of  the  traveller  went  back 
to  those  who  had  sat  here  enthroned,  and  particularly 
to  one  who  had  raised  the  Host  with  most  unworthy 
hands;  and  then  his  mind  reverted  to  a  belief  he  had 
lately  heard  upheld — that  the  standards  of  the  world 
were  lowering,  that  the  people  were  degenerating,  and 
that  the  ideals  of  the  past  were  purer  than  those  of 
"this  materialistic  age."     He  remembered   a  fellow- 


THE  CHURCH  S  RARE  ORNAMENTATION  AND  ITS  EXQUISITE  HARMONIES 
OF  LIGHT." ANGOULEME. 


l6 


225 


Angouleme. 


227 


traveller,  an  old  and  kindly  priest,  who  had  looked  up 
at  Angouleme  and  said:  "Such  monuments  are  the 
work  of  loving  thought  and  care,  of  a  time  of  faith 
purer  than  our  own.  "  Again  his  mind  reverted  to  the 
distant  past,  to  the  Bishop,  Octavien  de  Saint-Gelais, 
who  had  unworthily  celebrated  in  this  church,  and  who 
was  called  "the  man  of  wit,  of  gentle  and  of  amorous 
vein.  "     And  the  traveller  felt  that,  in  spite  of  evil  that 


-t' 


SCULPTURES   OF       THE   WHITE   CHURCH   OF   ANGOULEME. 


remains,  "the  world  is  growing  better,"  the  ideals  and 
the  faith  of  the  Middle  Ages  have  grown  and  spiritual- 
ised, a  frankly  worldly  clergy  thrives  no  more,  and 
sentiment  indeed  has  changed;  for  those  words  which 
were  epithets  of  praise  in  the  time  of  Saint-Gelais  would 
be  to-day  opprobrium. 

Yet  this  Bishop  was  by  no  means  a  strange  or  an 
unusual  figure  in  his  age.      Like  many  of  those  who 


2  28  Aquitaine. 

preceded  and  those  who  followed  him  in  office,  he  was 
of  ancient  line,  destined  from  his  cradle  to  become 
a  Churchman,  and  to  rise  to  an  ecclesiastical  rank 
befitting  his  lineage.  He  was  therefore  educated  in 
religious  institutions  and  duly  ordained.  But  the 
influence  of  his  traditional  ancestry,  who  were  none 
other  than  Greeks,  Romans,  and  the  fairy  Melusine, 
seems  to  have  been  more  powerful  than  that  of  his 
pious  training.  The  young  priest  was  fascinating, 
witty,  and  merry,  an  ideal  courtier  of  the  Renaissance, 
which  was  much  that  a  cleric  should  not  be;  and  when 
he  made  the  metric  translation  which  should  prove 
his  learning  and  fitness  for  churchly  honours,  he  could 
not  resign  himself  to  the  old-time  eloquence  of  Saint 
Augustine,  the  unfashionable  logic  of  Saint  Jerome, 
nor  any  other  musty  work  of  the  Fathers.  He  chose 
rather  the  life  of  Pius  H,  the  Pope  of  an  eminent 
pontificate,  the  illustrious  Piccolomini.  "No  one," 
writes  the  Bishop's  biographer,  "could  possibly  imagine 
his  work  a  seminary  exercise,  yet  the  .  .  .  world  to 
which  Octavien  belonged  did  not  judge  it  as  utterly 
unecclesiastical, "  and  it  was  prepared  with  the  most 
consummate  tact,  wisdom,  and  taste.  Dedicated  to 
the  King,  Charles  VI H,  a  dispenser  of  good  gifts,  it 
was  placed  under  the  "shield  of  the  Holy  Trinity," 
and  began  with  a  sonorous  invocation  of  the  Creator. 
The  work  itself  was  made  interesting  to  all,  because, 
although  ecclesiastical  in  association,  it  avoided  the 
onerous  problems  and  heavy  charges  of  the  pontificate 


Angouleme.  229 

of  Pius  II  to  dwell  entirely  upon  an  incident  of  his 
wild  youth,  "The  Love  of  Euryalus  and  Lucre t ia. " 
For  a  crude  and  captious  censor,  the  future  Bishop 
patiently  explained  that  this  was  but  the  story,  the 
recital  of  adventures  which,  in  the  actual  happening 
had  not  prevented  their  hero  from  ascending  the  papal 
throne;  and  one  can  imagine  the  young  priest  politely 
stifling  a  yawn  as  he  writes,  "Is  not  some  distraction 
necessary  between  prayers?" 

With  these  and  other  works  of  like  "distraction," 
Octavien  became  the  favourite  of  royalty  and  of  ladies; 
and  when  Robert  of  Luxembourg  died  and  the  Chapter 
of  Angouleme  elected  a  worthy  Canon  as  his  successor, 
Octavien,  the  candidate  of  Charles  VIII,  gracefully 
overlooked  the  Chapter's  haste,  and  was  magnificently 
consecrated  in  the  Cathedral  of  Lyons  before  the  King 
and  the  greatest  of  the  Court.  Entering  his  Cathedral 
to  the  sound  of  trumpets,  he  began  his  episcopate  at 
the  age  of  twenty-five;  and  after  a  few  more  years  of 
literary  honours  and  court  favours  he  died,  and  on  his 
tomb  these  words  were  inscribed,  "I,  Octavien,  having 
arrived  at  the  summit  of  honours,  behold  me,  under 
this  bit  of  earth." 

This  "gentle  Bishop,"  as  he  was  styled,  was  not  the 
only  type  of  ecclesiastic  of  his  time;  it  is  beyond  doubt 
that  the  Church  in  France  had,  at  that  period  as  in 
all  others,  eminent  priests,  holy  monks,  and  prelates 
like  the  Cardinal  of  Amboise,  who  were  without  re- 
proach.    Yet  he  was  one  of  the  two  types  who  reigned 


230 


Aquitaine. 


in  Angouleme;  and  it  seems  that  they  were  men  of  his 
character  who  built  the  Cathedral.  Grimoard,  the 
early  builder,  was  a  man  of  troubles  and  turmoils;  and 
Robert  de  Montbron,  who  in  1259  was  endeavouring 
to   finish   Saint-Pierre,    had   so   many   disputes   with 

Hugues  de  Lusi- 
gnan  that  the 
Count  refused  to 
allow  any  "stone, 
water,  lime,  sand, 
or  wood"  to  be 
carried  for  the  Ca- 
thedral, and  kept 
the  architects,  the 
"  masters  of  the 
work, "  outside  the 
city  gates. 

So  greatly  have 
our  customs  chang- 
ed that  these  olden 
tales  now  seem 
untrue.  Armed 
security  is  not  now 
an  ideal  of  com- 
fort. The  walls  of 
Angouleme  are  gone;  and,  no  longer  hidden  by  them, 
the  Cathedral  stands  superbly  forth,  a  mar\^el  of  a 
past  art  and  a  worthy  place  of  worship  for  genera- 
tions yet  to  come. 


JEAN,  A  LORD  OF  ANGOULEME. 


Poitiers  231 

Few  cities  in  France  are  of  ^eater  historic 
ttoitf^ra  antiquity  than  the  peaceful  Httle  city  of 
Poitiers.  The  "raised  stone"  of  the 
suburb  of  Saint-Saturn  in,  a  lonely,  fallen 
dolmen,  is  the  mute,  mysterious  witness  of  its  most 
remote  past,  the  days  of  Celtic  tribes  and  white-robed 
Druid  priests.  Of  the  pagan  Roman  city  there  are 
but  few  remains.  Like  Aries  and  Lyons,  Poitiers 
became  one  of  the  first  and  greatest  Christian  schools 
in  Gaul,  and  it  would  seem  that  the  faith  of  the  con- 
verted was  so  enthusiastic  that  they  not  only  renounced 
their  pagan  mythology,  but  voluntarily  allowed  the 
edifices  of  a  heathen  Imperialism  to  crumble  away. 
Arena,  Palace,  and  Forum  must  have  been  deserted 
for  church  and  monastery.  Even  to  our  times  the 
churches  and  convents  have  persisted,  the  religious 
atmosphere  has  survived;  and  it  is  from  book-knowledge 
that  the  traveller,  wandering  in  the  quiet  streets,  re- 
calls that  the  city  has  a  place  in  profane  history,  that 
the  Saracens  entered  here,  that  the  English,  for  a  weary 
time,  were  masters  in  the  town,  that  heretics  swarmed 
within  and  laid  siege  without,  that  Jeanne  d'Arc  was 
brought  here  to  be  questioned  by  the  learned  Doctors 
of  the  Church,  aad  that  here  also,  on  a  Trinity  Sunday, 
Richard,  son  of  Henry  of  England,  was  crowned  Duke 
of  Aquitaine  in  presence  of  his  French  mother,  the 
famous  Eleanor. 

The  reminders  of  these  events  are  few;  but  at  every 
step  there  is  an  exposition  of  some  phase  in  the  develop- 


232 


Aquitaine. 


ment  of  the  city's  dominant  theme,  the  Church.  Poi- 
tiers is  still  a  religious  place,  still  a  great  Christian 
school,  its  quiet  streets  are  lined  with  churches  and 
high  convent  walls,  and  its  atmosphere  is  fragrant 
with  holy  memories.  It  is  the  shrine  of  Saint  Hilary, 
the  Bishop  who  was  distinguished  by  "Hellenic  grace 


THE     RAISED  STONE     OP  THE  SUBURB  OF  SAINT-SATURNIN,  A  LONELY, 
FALLEN  DOLMEN." — POITIERS. 

and  the  loftiness  of  the  Gallic  buckskin,"  the  heroic 
and  triumphant  enemy  of  the  Aryan  heresy;  of  the 
pious  Abbot,  Saint-Porchaire;  and  of  Sainte-Radegonde, 
the  beautiful  Queen  who  renounced  the  glories  of  a 
wicked  Court  to  become  an  Abbess.  Here  lived  the 
poetic  Bishop,  Fortunatus,  a  Saint  and  a  friend  of  the 
holy  Abbess-Queen,  and  one  is  told  of  a  holier  footstep 


Poitiers 


233 


than  any  made  by  saintly  feet,  and  shown  the  place 
where  Christ  is  said  to  have  appeared  in  Poitiers. 

To  walk  about  the  ancient  city,  from  one  shrine  to 
another,  is  not  only  a  religious  but  an  architectural 
pilgrimage;  for  every  halting-place  in  the  little  journey 
is  marked  by  a  veritable  treasure  of  the  mediaeval  or 
pre-mediaeval  art  of  building.  Few  cities  have  ecclesi- 
astical monuments  of  such  surpassing  interest  and 
variety  as  the  tower  of  Saint-Porchaire,  the  Churches 
of  Montierneuf,  of  .Saint-Hilaire,  of  Notre-Dame- 
la-Grande,  of  Sainte-Radegonde,  the  Baptistery  of 
Saint- Jean,  and  finally,  least  in  style  and  in  religious 
memories,  the  Cathedral  of  Saint-Pierre, 

As  the  Bishopric  of  Poitiers  dates  from  the  beginning 
of  the  IV  centur}^  it  must  have  had  several  Cathedrals 
of  which  no  more  than  a  few  scanty  traditions,  a  few 
unimportant  facts  can  be  adduced.  The  story  of  the 
present  Cathedral  is  well  known.  Its  first  stone  was 
laid  in  1162  by  the  Queen  of  England,  Eleanor  of 
Guienne,  who,  with  her  husband,  Henry  II,  planned  to 
re-build  the  church  in  the  Plantagenet-Gothic  style. 
A  large  part  of  the  work  was  finished,  the  monumental 
facade  was  complete  and  its  two  towers  had  risen  far 
above  their  foundations,  when  the  Queen  died  and  the 
large  contributions  ceased.  More  or  less  intermittently, 
as  means  permitted,  the  work  was  resumed,  and  the 
Cathedral  was  consecrated  in  1379. 

This  church  was  planned  in  an  unsettled  architectural 
period.     The  supremacy  of  the  great  southern  form, 


234 


Aquitaine. 


the  Romanesque,  was  waning,  the  rapid  development 
of  the  northern  Gothic  had  begun;  and,  placed  geo- 
graphically between  North  and  South,  Saint-Pierre 
shows  evidences  of  the  effects  of  the  radical  change  of 
taste  which  was  then  taking  place  in  the  religious  styles 
of  mediaeval  France.     It  was  begim  in  the  traditional 


THE   BAPTISTERY   OF   SAINT-JEAN.    — POITIERS. 

ma^er  of  Poitou,  and  has  many  rounded  arches;  but 
it  is  pre-eminently  Gothic. 

The  lateral  and  transept  walls  of  the  huge  building, 
heavily  and  plainly  buttressed,  appear  strong,  and 
utilitarian,  and  have  no  beauty  except  that  of  the  lit- 
tle door  of  Saint-Michel.  The  interesting  portions  of 
the  exterior  are  its  large  facade  and  curious  apse,  and 


THE  FACADE  WHICH  IS  PLANNED  WITH  THE  EL.aBORATION  OF  THE  EARLIER 
GOTHIC,  AND  HAS  ALL  THE  DETAILS  WHICH  THE  CONVENTIONS  OF  THE 
ART  DEMANDED." POITIERS. 


235 


Poiti 


ers. 


237 


nothing  could  be  more  antithetical  than  these  parts 
of  the  church,  as  widely  separated  in  style  as  in  distance. 
One  is  strictly  conventional,  the  other  almost  a  vagary; 
one  is  elaborate,  the  other  severely  plain;  the  fagade 
is  Gothic,  the  apse  is  Romanesque,  and  the  only 
quality  which  they  seem  to  share  is  size. 

The  apse  is  the  sole  portion  of  the  church  which 
departs  from  an  extremely  conventional  ideal,  and  is, 
properly  speaking,  only  a  sheer  wall  rising  to  a  great 
height.  It  is  a  dull,  heavy,  yet  rather  interesting  wall, 
decorated  with  three  stories  of  windows  or  arcades. 
It  is  terminated  in  the  centre  by  a  pointed  gable,  and 
at  each  end,  by  a  small,  cone-shaped  turret.  The  style 
is  purely  Romanesque,  faintly  reminiscent  of  the 
iortified  churches  of  the  Midi  of  the  type  of  Saint- 
Sulpice-du-Tam,  and  if  there  were  portals  in  the 
blank,  grim  wall  of  its  lower  story,  it  would  be  far 
more  appropriate  as  a  facade  than  as  an  apse. 

Behind  this  wall,  a  long  expanse  of  roof  stretches 
drearily  across  the  Cathedral  and  meets  the  wall  of 
the  fagade,  which  is  planned  with  the  elaboration  of 
the  earlier  Gothic,  and  has  all  the  details  which  the 
conventions  of  the  art  demanded, — the  three  sculp- 
tured portals,  the  rose  window,  the  galleried  arcades, 
the  flanking  towers,  and  even  the  grotesque  gargoyles. 
The  sculptured  carvings  of  these  forms  are  very  beauti- 
ful. The  veinings  of  the  rose,  firm  and  yet  delicate, 
the  arches,  the  columns,  and  canopies  are  exquisitely 
fine,  and  the  portals  are  rich  in  niches,  in  Saints,  and 


238  Aquitaine. 

in  Angels.  The  dramatic  scenes  of  the  three  t^nn- 
panums  are  represented  with  much  power  of  compo- 
sition and  with  vivid  clearness  and  strength.  Their 
subjects  are  usual,  the  Last  Judgment,  the  Presen- 
tation of  the  Keys,  and  scenes  from  the  life  of  the 
Virgin;  and  it  says  much  for  their  merit  that  these 
sculptures  will  bear  comparison  with  similar  work  and 
similar  subjects  in  the  portals  of  far  greater  Cathedrals* 

The  details  of  the  fagade  are  admirable,  its  pro- 
portions are  deplorable,  and  as  a  whole,  it  is  a  failure. 
The  immense  breadth  of  the  wall  is  disproportioned  to 
its  height,  and  ever\'thing  seems  to  accentuate  this 
unhappy  effect.  The  unfinished  towers  are  heavy  and 
squat,  the  three  portals  are  unaccountably  low,  and,, 
as  if  nature  herself  had  conspired  against  the  church, 
the  level  of  the  ground  has  risen,  and  to  enter  the  doors 
one  must  descend  eight  steps. 

Four  more  steps  lead  down  into  the  interior,  where 
the  first  impression  of  dreariness  cannot  be  explained 
by  any  structural  defect,  nor  by  coldness  of  tone,  for 
the  stone  is  a  softened,  ivoried  white.  The  traveller 
glanced  around  in  perplexity,  and  slowly  became 
conscious  that  it  was  the  floods  of  hard  light  which 
gave  that  cold  bareness,  a  quality  foreign  to  the  Gothic 
chtirch.  Saint-Pierre  has  a  little  rich,  old,  stained- 
glass,  but  they  are  relics,  fragments  in  a  sea  of  plain, 
white  glass;  and  it  is  in  a  church  which  has  the  many,, 
large  windows  of  Saint-Pierre  that  one  realises  that 
white  glass  is  not  a  neutral  makeshift  but  a  veritable 


Q    E- 

W    I 


S    K. 


a:  '-' 


^   9 


239 


Poitiers.  241 

blight,  and  that  stained-glass  was  not  an  independent 
art  which  contributed  to  Gothic  beauty  but,  like 
sculpture,  was  an  essential  and  integral  part  of  the 
style. 

The  interior  shows  in  every  line  a  straining  after  an 
ideal  presentation,  a  desire  to  produce  an  overwhelming 
and  majestic  effect.  Its  plan  is  simple  and  somewhat 
unusual.  It  is  church-like  in  appearance  because  of 
the  disposition  of  its  furniture,  but,  except  in  the 
transepts  which  project  the  length  of  one  bay,  it  has 
no  distinct  churchly  form,  but  is  rather  a  vast  Gothic 
hall  divided  by  two  rows  of  graceful,  clustered  columns. 
There  has  been  no  economy  in  dimensions,  no  meagre- 
ness  in  execution,  yet  in  this  interior  the  architects 
have  failed  to  realise  the  perfection  for  which  they 
strove.  The  large  proportions  would  be  grandiose 
if  they  were  not  so  regular  and,  as  it  were,  neat;  the 
bays  are  exactly  square;  the  vaulting,  although  Gothic 
in  style,  is  almost  domical  in  form,  and  each  bay  is 
precisely  complete;  the  spacious  breadth  of  the  nave 
and  that  of  the  aisles  are  almost  equal;  their  height  is 
almost  the  same;  and  the  general  oblong  form,  lack- 
ing the  gracious  curves  of  the  ambulatory  or  the 
rounded  apse,  is  not  only  monotonously  regular,  but 
angular  in  its  perspectives. 

The  architects,  however,  brought  to  the  construction 
of  this  vast  hall  all  their  art.  They  enlarged  its  win- 
dows, adorned  its  lateral  walls  with  rounded  arcades 
and  the  capitals  of  its  columns  with  pretty  foliage 

VOL.    II. 16. 


242  Aquitaine. 

and  quaint  animals.  They  employed,  not  only  arts, 
but  artificial  devices;  and,  to  increase  the  effectiveness 
of  the  interior  perspective,  the  hall  was  slightly  nar- 
rowed, and  the  arches  and  the  vaulting  were  lowered 
as  the  apse  was  approached. 

The  large  simplicity  of  the  original  conception  has 
been  scrupulously  respected  by  all  who  inherited  the 
building  of  the  monument,  yet  this  respect  which  has 
preserved  the  architectural  unity  of  its  early  builders 
has  failed  to  produce,  either  in  interior  or  exterior, 
a  Cathedral  of  great  beauty.  Magnificently  generous 
in  size,  its  exterior  is  never  imposing  and  its  interior 
is  never  majestic;  its  very  length  and  breadth  destroy 
the  effect  of  loftiness  in  vaulting  and  walls  less  boldly 
planned.  The  inner  church  seems  too  low,  the  outer 
church  seems  squat. 

Saint-Pierre  has  elements  of  both  greatness  and 
beauty,  but  "in  spite  of  its  grandeur,  the  beauty  of 
its  construction  and  of  its  details,  ...  it  is  a  strange 
monument,"  writes  Viollet-le-Duc;  and  in  contem- 
plating it,  one  feels  a  deep  sympathy  for  the  builders 
whose  power  was  w^eighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting. 

To  the  world  of  laymen,  if  not  to  Church- 
men,  the  See  of  Lugon  is  most  interesting 
because  it  was  once  governed  by  Richelieu. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  XVI  century, 
writes  Ballereau,  "it  had  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 


243 


Lucon. 


245 


family"  of  the  Cardinal,  and  the  steps  by  which  it 
descended  to  the  great  statesman  himself  form  so 
eloquent  an  exposition  of  the  ecclesiastical  habits  of 
the  XVI  and  XVII  centuries  that  comment  would  be 
superfluous.  The  first  incumbent  of  the  name,  Jacques 
du  Plessis  de  Richelieu,  was  not  even  consecrated  as 


ENTERING   THE   DOOR   OF   THE   LOW,   BROAD   FAfADE   ONE  COMES   IMMEDI- 
ATELY  INTO   A   CLOISTERED   COURT." LU^ON. 

Bishop;  the  second,  Alphonse-Louis  du  Plessis  de 
Richelieu,  never  lived  in  Lugon;  the  third,  who  after- 
wards became  the  great  Cardinal,  was  originall}' 
destined  for  a  military  career,  but  he  abandoned  the 
army — ^not  to  say  the  world — for  the  study  of  church- 
craft,  and  after  having  proved  his  gifts  in  a  sermon 
preached  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-two,  before  the 


246  Aquitaine. 

Pope  and  the  most  renowned  of  Italian  theologians, 
he  received  the  dispensation  which  allowed  him,  in 
spite  of  his  extreme  youth,  to  succeed  his  relatives 
upon  the  episcopal  throne  of  Lugon. 

Although,  at  first,  he  had  not  thought  to  become 
a  priest,  the  young  Richelieu  showed,  if  not  a  more 
marked  spirituality,  at  least  a  greater  sense  of  things 
ecclesiastical  than  his  reverend  predecessors.  He  was 
not  duly  consecrated  within  a  year  of  his  elevation, 
but,  with  a  faithfulness  not  always  seen  in  his  day, 
he  took  up  his  residence  in  his  See. 

To  ascend  an  episcopal  throne  was  a  very  sonorous 
honour,  but  to  live  in  Lugon  proved  to  be  a  more 
prosaic  fact.  The  Palace  w^as  almost  uninhabitable, 
and  soon  after  the  young  Bishop  was  installed  in  his 
Cathedral-city  he  wrote  to  Madame  de  Bourges :  "  I 
am  extremely  ill-lodged,  for  there  is  no  place  I  can 
make  a  fire  on  account  of  the  smoke.  You  see  that  I 
do  not  long  for  a  rigorous  winter;  but  there  is  no 
remedy  except  patience.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  have 
the  most  villainous,  the  most  squalid,  and  the  most 
disagreeable  Bishopric  in  France.  .  .  .  There  is  no 
place  here  where  one  may  walk,  neither  garden,  nor 
promenades,  nor  an\'thing  else,  so  my  house  is  my 
prison." 

In  an}-  material  sense  of  the  word  the  residence  of 
the  Bishops  of  Lu^on  is  no  longer  a  "prison. "  Enter- 
ing the  door  of  the  low,  broad  facade  one  comes  im- 
mediately  into   a   cloistered   court.     Outside,    in   the 


247 


Lucon. 


249 


town's  big,  open  square,  the  solitude  suggests  loneli- 
ness; here,  within,  it  induces  meditation,  serenity,  a 
clearness  of  mind  akin  to  the  limpid  waters  of  a  still 
pool.  The  beauty  of  the  place  is  incontestable;  a 
quiet,  insinuating  beauty,  full  of  charm  and  religious 
suggestiveness  that,  after   the  wise  method  of  Holy 


"  THE    CLOISTER-WALKS    ARE    SIMPLY    BUILT." LUgiON. 

Mother  Church  might  well  lead  faltering  man  through 
the  material  to  the  spiritual. 

The  Cloister- walks  are  simply  built;  a  balcony  ex- 
tends over  one  side,  over  two  others  is  the  second  story 
of  the  Palace  with  its  rows  of  prettily  ctirtained 
Renaissance  windows.  The  little  close  is  carefully 
laid  out  in  winding  paths  and  bordered  plots,  and  all 


250  Aquitaine. 

this  beauty  seems  to  have  been  planned  in  honour  of 
Mary  Immaoilate  whose  white  statue  rises  in  its  midst. 
A  wall  of  the  Cathedral  forms  an  appropriate  fourth 
side  to  the  quadrangle,  and  on  May  evenings  and  other 
holy  nights  those  who  are  within  the  Cloister-walks  see 
the  slow-moving  lights  through  the  church's  windows 
and  hear  the  organ's  softened  tones  and  the  low  voices 
of  the  chanting  priests. 

A  beautiful  little  door  leads  into  one  of  the  halls  of 
the  Palace  and  beyond  this  hall  lie  the  great  gardens 
of  the  Bishop.  Palms,  bushes,  trees,  flowering  shrubs, 
and  the  roses  of  France  are  planted  in  this  stately 
spot.  Its  broad  walks  are  veritable  promenades, 
and  the  turreted  walls  rise  white  and  gleaming  from 
among  the  greens  of  the  foliage.  This  is  a  Palace 
which  a  King  might  envy;  no  castle-garden  of  fair 
Touraine  is  more  charming,  but  here  is  an  atmosphere 
of  dignity  which  is  foreign  to  the  pleasure  grounds  of 
princes;  the  workers  who  are  busily  ironing  near  the 
windows  are  white-capped  Sisters  of  the  Church;  the 
Cathedral's  walls  enclose  part  of  the  garden;  and  above 
the  Palace,  which  bears  the  arms  of  Richelieu,  the 
spire  looms  suggestively. 

The  rooms  of  the  Palace  are  as  stately  as  its  garden, 
and  the  walls  of  the  large  and  the  small  reception  rooms 
are  hung  with  interesting  paintings.  There  is  a  Last 
Supper,  a  dark,  obscure  canvas  ascribed  to  Titian; 
a  worn  portrait  of  the  creator  of  the  See,  John  XXII, 
a  lean,  brown-skinned  prelate  with  dreadful,  piercing 


S  s 


EC     W 


251 


Lucon 


253 


eyes;  an  almost  life-sized  figure  of  the  great  Richelieu 
in  the  flowing  robes  of  a  Cardinal,  the  portrait  of  the 
present  Bishop  of  Lugon,  and  those  of  many  of  his 


"above  the    palace,    which    bears    the    arms    of 
richelieu,  the  spire  looms  suggestively." lu^on. 

predecessors— a  host  of  works  whose  study  is  a  rare 
artistic  and  psychological  treat. 

Beyond  the  rooms  which  contain  these  paintings 
is  the  chapel  where  the  prelate,  surrounded  by  his 
household,  hears  daily  Mass;  and  near-by  is  the  sunny 


254 


Aquitaine. 


Library  filled  with  all 'sorts  and  conditions  of  books 

from  rare  old  edi- 
tions and  illumi- 
nated manuscripts 
to  the  most  mod- 
em of  churchly 
magazines;  and  the 
traveller,  v/ander- 
ing  happily  from 
shelf  to  shelf,  felt 
far  removed  from 
the  great  man  who 
found  himself  so 
"extremely  ill- 
lodged  "  in  the 
Palace  of  Lugon. 

The  Bishop's 
residence  is  far 
more  attractive 
than  the  Bishop's 
church,  a  building 
which  illustrates 
every  famous  ar- 
chitectural style  of 
France,  from  the 
Roman  esq  u  e  , 
which  exists  in  the 
northern  transept, 
the  interesting 
fragment    of      an 


"an  ALMOST  LIFE-SIZED  FK;i   ki-;  (if  THK  CRHAT 
RICHELIEU  IN  THE  FLOWING  ROBES  OF  A 
CARDINAL." — LUfON. 


NO  CASTLE  GARDEN  OF  FAIR  TOURAINE  COULD  BE  MORE 
CHARMING." LUg:ON. 


Lucon 


257 


old  Abbey-church,  to  the  renascent  classic  of  the 
tower  and  the  fagade  which  is  scarcely  more  than 
the  tower's  base.  In  spite  of  this  inapt  juxtaposition 
of    styles,    the    Cathedral   is  not  without  homogene- 


"  THE  SUNNY  LIBRARY  FILLED  WITH  ALL  SORTS  AND  CON- 
DITIONS OF  BOOKS." LUgON. 

ous  and  even  beautiful  perspectives.  The  rounded 
arches  of  the  north  transept  are  discreetly  hidden 
by     neighbouring    houses,    the    slender    Gothic  spire 

VOL.    II. 17. 


2S8 


Aquitaine. 


which  looks  ill-mated  to  its  cumbrous  base,  regains 
its  graceful  proportions  when  the  thick  summer  foli- 
age   hides    its   foundation ;    and    the   many   peaked 

.  turretsof  the  short, 
double  fl}'ing  but- 
tresses, which  give 
to  the  lateral  walls 
a  mannered,  stiff 
aspect,  seem  from 
the  Bishop's  Clois- 
ter and  the  episco- 
pal gardens  quaint 
and  even  pictur- 
esque. 

In  the  interior 
of  the  Cathedral, 
there  is,  despite 
dissimilar  propor- 
tions, a  truer  or- 
ganic unity — the 
Romanesque  of 
the  northern  tran- 
sept is  scarcely 
more  than  a  frag- 
ment in  compari- 
son  with  the 
Gothic  of  the  three 
white  aisles  and  the  lateral  chapels.  The  choir  is 
broader  than  the  nave,  and,  as   in    so    many   of    the 


THE    RENASCENT   CLASSIC    OF   THE    TOWER    AND 

THE   FACADE   WHICH   IS   SCARCELY   MORE  SOn        With        thC 

THAN   THE   TOWER's  BASE." LUfON. 


'from  the  steps  of  the  high  altar  the  nave  seems  exquisitely 

LOFTY,  delicate,  AND  WHITE." LUgON, 


259 


Lucon.  261 

minor  examples  of  the  style,  the  pillars  are  beauti- 
ful, slender,  and  clustered,  the  capitals  have  charming 
delicacy,  and  the  arches  are  tall  and  broadly  pointed. 
But  here  the  artistic  impulse  seems  to  have  wearied, 
the  triforium  and  the  clerestory  are  proportionally 
low  and  squat,  the  aisles  are  ended  by  a  flat  wall,  and 
the  pale  stained-glass  casts  an  unpleasing  light  into 
the  Cathedral  and  makes  the  pure  whiteness  of  its 
stone  seem  hard  and  glaring.  In  many  perspectives 
these  defects  are  marked,  but  the  vistas  of  the  side 
aisles  are  very  harmonious  and  from  the  steps  of  the 
High  Altar  the  nave  seems  exquisitely  lofty,  delicate, 
and  white. 

Comparisons  are  odious,  but  they  underlie  every 
judgment  and  every  appreciation.  Some  Cathedrals 
are  "very  great"  because  the  mind  of  man  has  con- 
ceived none  greater,  others  are  "poor"  only  because 
so  many  better  ones  have  been  created.  In  contrast 
with  the  noblest  of  Gothic  churches,  the  Cathedral 
of  Lugon  has  very  many  imperfections;  its  simplicity 
is  sometimes  meagre;  its  ornamentation,  mannered; 
and  its  mixture  of  styles,  unpleasing;  but  in  comparison 
with  modem  edifices  of  its  size  and  importance,  it  has 
much  dignity,  and  whatever  its  defects  it  is  a  Cathedral 
in  which  a  noble  worship  may  be  worthily  celebrated. 
It  is  a  churchly  church,  and  in  these  days  when  the 
architectural  distinction  between  haUs  of  amusement 
and  places  of  worship  is  all  too  slight,  it  is  a  pleasing 
and    inspiring   sight   to   those   weary    of  the   amphi- 


262  Aquitaine. 

theatrical,  the  rococo,  and  the  gauntly  plain.  Lugon 
is  not  a  Montauban  which,  architecturally  speaking, 
should  never  have  been  built;  nor  an  Amiens,  which 
it  is  perhaps  impossible  to  build  again;  but  a  church 
of  small  size  and  of  an  honest,  temperate  ambition; 
a  type  whose  merits  are  worthy  of  study  for  they  might 
be  happily  reproduced  in  churches  which  are  yet 
to  be  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New. 

"Ruined  by  the  Huguenots"  are  the  ter- 
rible words  which  mark  the  XVI-century 
•  history  of  innumerable  churches  in  France. 
To  the  Catholics  of  those  times  they  meant 
the  coming  of  stem,  determined  foes,  the  terror  of  crash- 
ing stone  and  blazing  fires.  At  the  setting  of  the  sun 
a  Cathedral  stood  in  beauty  and  splendour;  with  the 
dawn  its  great  towers  had  fallen,  the  naves  were  filled 
with  the  blocks  of  the  vault,  statues  of  Christ  and  His 
Saints  lay  broken  in  an  hundred  pieces,  and  in  the  smoul- 
dering ashes  the  sorrowing  Faithful  found  blackened 
fragments  of  gold,  bits  of  the  rich,  invaluable  wood- 
carving  of  stalls,  embroidered  vestments,  and  the  char- 
red bones  of  Bishops  and  Saints.  Sometimes,  as  at 
Dax,  the  church  was  hideously  re-built;  sometimes;  as 
at  Valence,  there  were  more  or  less  satisfactory  restor- 
ations; at  Maillezais  only  ruins  remained,  "the  most 
picturesque,"  writes  Berthel^,  ".  .  .  in  La  Vendue 
and  one  of  the  most  important  of  the  region  of  the 
West." 


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Maillezais.  265 

Established  after  the  records  of  the  Church  had  be- 
come historical,  the  story  of  the  foundation  of  Maille- 
zais is  not  a  beautiful  tradition,  and  the  steps  of  its  rise 
and  fall  are  clearly  marked.  Being  an  Abbey  that  was 
transformed  into  a  Bishopric,  its  history  is  not  only  that 
of  the  episcopacy,  but  of  monastic  life,  and  gives  to  the 
Cathedral-seeker  a  glimpse  of  another  and  most  inter- 
esting branch  of  the  Church,  the  regular  clergy,  the 
Order  of  Saint  Benedict.  The  X  century  that  of  the 
Abbey's  creation,  was  one  of  strange  virtues,  crude 
religious  emotions,  and  moral  rudeness;  and  the  history 
of  its  beginning  is  characteristic  of  the  times. 

William  of  Poitiers,  Duke  of  Aquitaine,  with  Emma, 
his  wife  and  a  number  of  attendants,  were  hunting  in 
the  forests  of  La  Vendee  when  the  wild  boar  which  they 
had  been  following  took  refuge  under  the  overturned 
altar  of  a  Chapel  of  Saint-Hilaire.  Coming  to  the  chapel 
which  had  probably  been  ruined  in  the  Norman  in- 
vasions, seeing  in  the  shadowy  darkness  of  the  trees 
a  holy  place  of  which  they  had  not  known,  and  the 
tracked  animal  panting  wildly  in  the  harbour  of  a  con- 
secrated spot,  the  Duchess  Emma  was  much  moved; 
she  saw  a  heavenly  guidance  in  the  chase,  and  both  she 
and  her  husband  vowed  to  restore  the  little  chapel.  As 
a  consequence  the  first  Monastery  of  Maillezais  was. 
begun  in  959..  The  noble  donors  were  not,  however, 
amenable  to  the  same  rigorous  discipline  as  the  monks 
whom  they  had  invited  to  dwell  in  their  land.  The 
Duchess  Emma  seems  to  have  been  an  untamed  shrew. 


266  Aquitaine. 

William  the  Duke  was  too  amorous  and  gallant  a 
knight;  and  during  the  times  of  their  quarrels,  which 
were  more  or  less  Rabelaisian  in  character,  the  holy 
work  of  Abbe3'-building  was  usually  suspended. 

The  X  and  XI  centuries  were,  however,  periods  of 
intense  industry  and  toil  for  the  Order  itself;  and  during 
the  next  hundred  years  a  great  church  and  large  mo- 
nastic buildings  had  been  constructed,  and  the  pros- 
perity of  Maillezais  had  begun. 

Brochet  in  his  interesting  descriptions  of  La  Vendue 
writes  that  "this  was  the  time  of  the  great  monks  of 
Maillezais.  Their  life  was  rude  and  simple.  The 
monastery  was  constructed  like  a  stronghold  for  fear 
of  invasions  and  roughly,  heavily,  and  almost  poorly 
built.  Here  and  there,  leaning  over  tables  or  desks, 
one  could  have  seen  monks  still  as  statues  .  .  . 
plunged  in  the  study  of  large  manuscripts.  The  type 
of  the  monk  of  this  centur}'  was  full  of  strength  and 
austerity,  he  was  not  merely  a  student  or  a  man  of  pious 
leisure;  .  .  .  penance  held  his  body  in  subjection, 
and  prayer  uplifted  his  soul.  More  than  an  hundred 
brothers  were  kept  busy  in  writing  or  making  books. 
The  most  absolute  silence  was  observed.  No  one,  ex- 
cept the  Abbot,  the  Librarian,  and  ihe  Superior  ven- 
tured into  these  work-rooms.  Each  monk  had  his 
especial  task.  One  corrected  the  book  which  another 
had  written.  A  third  ornamented  it  with  red  ink,  this 
one  was  responsible  for  \he  punctuation,  that  one  for 
the   paintings.       .     .     .       Stretched      open     on     all 


Maillezais.  267 

the  great  desks  lay  these  parchments  resplendent  with 
gilding  and  beautiful  paintings;  their  heavy  bindings 
had  large  clasps  and  were  made  of  thick  leather  em- 
bossed with  graceful  or  fantastic  designs.  It  must  be 
recognised  that  the  Benedictines  of  Maillezais  were, 
during  a  long  period,  .  .  .  industrious  workers,  and 
if  their  influence  was  not  as  active  as  it  might  have  been, 
the  fault  belongs  to  the  political  conditions  which 
were  opposed  to  all  civilisation. 

"  Their  hierarchy,  which  was  elective, and  their  organ- 
isation, which  was  admirable  for  the  development  of 
character,  were  one  long  protest  against  ignorance 
and  brutal  force."  The  Church  was  a  refuge  for  all 
those  who  were  too  gentle,  too  refined,  too  good,  to 
endure  the  coarseness  and  cruelty  of  society,  and  in  the 
X  and  XI  centuries  whole  families  entered  the  religious 
life,  fathers  and  mothers  and  children,  husbands  and 
wives,  voluntarily  separated;  as  that  Daervert  and 
Hermengarde  who,  in  1065,  went  their  own  ways,  one 
to  the  Convent  of  Notre-Dame  at  Saintes,  the  other  to 
the  Abbey  of  Maillezais.  The  rough  and  the  brutal 
remained  in  the  world,  the  gentle  and  the  good  fled  to 
the  holy,  busy  haven  of  the  Cloister. 

In  the  XIII  century  the  admirable  discipline  of  the 
monastery  became  relaxed,  in  the  XIV  century  Maille- 
zais, grown  rich  and  fat  like  many  other  Benedictine 
Abbeys,  partook  of  the  ambition  for  the  episcopacy. 
At  this  time  Pope  John  XXII  became  persuaded  that 
the  diocese  of  Poitiers,  like  those  of  Limoges,  Narbonne, 


268  Aquitaine. 

Toulouse,  and  Bourges,  was  too  vast  for  one  Bishop; 
and  by  Bulls  given  on  the  "Ides  of  April,  13 17,"  the 
division  of  the  See  was  accomplished  and  the  Abbot  of 
Maillezais  was  that  same  year  crowned  Bishop  in  the 
Cathedral  of  Avignon. 

The  Chapter  of  the  new  See  was  composed  of  the 
monks.  As  Canons  they  had  new  privileges  of  a  secular 
order,  and  their  superiors,  no  longer  Abbots  but  Bishops 
introduced  less  rigorous  standards  of  living. 

Maillezais  itself,  although  denominated  '  'a  city  "  in  the 
Bull  of  erection,  was  never  more  than  a  village.  The 
community,  therefore,  untrammelled  by  the  public 
opinion  of  a  city's  wealthy  burghers  and  without  the 
stimulus  of  the  opposition  of  a  neighbouring  lord,  began 
to  enjoy  a  life  of  contented  leisure.  A  succession  of 
noble  prelates  brought  new  ideas  of  elegance  and  laxity. 
In  1475  came  John,  prothonotary  of  Sixtus  IV,  brother 
of  three  Bishops  and  of  the  Cardinal  d'Amboise.  The 
large  old  Abbey-church,  which  was  of  the  sturdy  Rom- 
anesque, "appeared  cold  and  mean  to  the  lord  of  the 
marvellous  castles  of  Chaumont  and  Amboise,"  and  to 
please  his  eye  accustomed  to  Gothic  refinements,  he 
added  lofty  transepts  of  the  slender,  pointed  style  to  the 
heavy  nave. 

A  following  incumbent,  Peter  II,  was  a  noble  Floren- 
tine who  never  came  to  Maillezais.  Only  the  most 
captious  could  chide  him  for  this  omission.  Obtaining 
the  purple  with  the  title  of  Saint  Eusebius,  he  was 
Bishop  of  Ancona,  Cadiz,  Maillezais,  Arras,  Cremona, 


Maillezais.  269 

Ravenna,  Albano,  of  Palestrina,  Sabina,  and  Porto; 
and  as  those  were  days  when  travelling  was  slow  and 
arduous,  and  as  he  could  scarcely  direct  the  affairs  of 
all  his  holy  offices  in  person,  is  it  a  matter  of  wonder 
that,  rather  than  mortify  the  flesh  and  journey  to  an 
island  of  La  Vendee,  he  should  have  preferred  to  give 
his  attention  to  those  nearer  at  home  ? 

Another  Bishop,  Geoff roy  d'Estissac,  came  to  Maille- 
zais and  finished  the  Cathedral  by  the  construction 
of  a  choir  where  the  Renaissance  is  said  to  have  lavished 
*'  its  richest  inspirations  and  most  delicate  arabesques." 
Judging  from  the  character  of  the  men  who  contributed 
to  it,  this  completion  was  not  so  much  the  expression 
of  religious  fervour  as  of  the  fitting  dignity  and  ambi- 
tion of  ecclesiastical  lords.  Monseigneur  d'Estissac  was 
far  more  a  man  of  the  world  than  a  priest.  His  tastes 
were  literary,  he  was  a  friend  to  the  arts  and  architec- 
ture, and  his  frank  worldliness  and  misapprehension 
of  the  spirituality  of  the  religious  state  are  well  illus- 
trated in  his  espousal  of  the  cause  of  Rabelais. 

The  life  of  this  unholy  monk  was  the  outcome  of 
ecclesiastical  vice  and  hypocrisy  acting  on  a  free,  keen, 
and  over-joyous  nature.  He  was  always  witty,  always 
merry,  and  in  the  course  of  the  decadent  religious  train- 
ing of  the  XV  century  he  had  developed  the  license, 
coarseness,  and  ribaldry  that  degraded  his  great  intel- 
lect; and  Arcere  declares  that  in  his  writings  "all  is  unin- 
telligible except  that  which  should  be  so — libertinage 
and  obscenity."     Notwithstanding  these  marked  char- 


270  Aquitaine. 

acteristics  which  he  cherished  with  frank  cynicism^ 
Rabelais  was  a  monk  of  the  Franciscan  Order  at  Fon- 
tenay-le-Comte.  For  a  too  GalHc  joke  with  which  he 
had  celebrated  Saint  Andrew's  Day,  Rabelais  was 
thrown  into  a  cell.  Instead  of  performing  penance  he 
meditated  on  freedom;  and  he  remembered  that  an  old 
comrade  of  La  Beaumette,  the  Bishop  of  Maillezais, 
ruled  only  a  few  miles  away.  When  he  succeeded 
in  escaping  from  Fontenay  he  fled  to  his  old  friend. 
Monseigneur  received  the  delinquent  and  was  so  de- 
lighted with  his  wit  that  he  kept  Rabelais  with  him  for 
several  years,  invited  him  to  enter  the  Order  of  Saint 
Benedict,  and  obtained  from  Clement  VII  an  indult 
of  authorisation.  Much,  perhaps,  may  be  adduced  in 
extenuation  of  Rabelais,  but  little  in  excuse  of  his  in- 
troduction among  the  Benedictines  of  Maillezais;  and 
perhaps  no  better  illustration  of  the  decadence  of 
churchly  order  and  ideals  in  the  XV  century  can  be 
given  than  this  incident.  That  he  was  not  unfrocked 
and  excommunicated,  that  the  monks  did  not  protest 
against  his  reception  as  they  did  against  other  mandates 
of  their  superiors,  that  a  Pope  protected  him,  and  a 
Bishop  was  his  friend,  are  signs  of  the  times  which 
preceded  the  Religious  Wars. 

After  the  reign  of  Monseigneur  d'Estissac  had  ended, 
these  religious  struggles  soon  commenced,  and  from  its 
island  position  Maillezais  was  coveted  and  attacked 
both  by  Catholics  and  Calvinists.  Several  times  the 
monks  were  forced  to  abandon  it,  and  in  the  differing 


Maillezais.  271 

fates  of  the  old  Abbey  one  may  read  some  of  the  many 
strange  causes  which  were  involved  in  these  fierce 
fights.  The  Benedictines,  fearing  the  Reformers, 
quoted  Scripture  according  to  their  mind  and  petitioned 
that  those  who  were  derelict  in  churchly  duties  should 
be  punished,  "even  with  that  punishment  which  in  the 
time  of  Moses  by  the  Commandment  of  God  was  given 
him  who  was  found  on  the  Sabbath  day  gathering 
wood — to  wit,  the  .  .  .  stoning  as  is  recited  in  the 
XV  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Numbers."  Brantome 
writes  that  Catherine  de  Medecis  with  the  same  fear  of 
the  Huguenots  exclaimed  to  her  advisers  who  wished  to 
destroy  them  and  yet  feared  to  violate  a  truce,  "Truly 
you  are  very  dazed  on  the  problem  of  the  remedy.    . 

.  You  have  at  Maillezais  the  regiment  of  .  .  . 
Huguenots.  Send  as  many  arquebus iers  as  you  can 
and  cut  them  in  pieces  for  me,  and  the  truce  will  be 
unsaid  and  untied  without  any  further  to-do." 

The  spirit  of  the  monks  and  the  determination  of 
the  Queen  were  united  in  their  foes,  who  wrote  in  1567: 
"After  the  invocation  of  the  name  of  the  Eternal, 
being  all  assembled  to  assist  the  maintenance  and 
growth  of  our  holy  reformed  religion,  we  promise  unani- 
mously to  live  and  die  therein,  and  we  renounce  all 
superstitions  and  papistical  idolatry,  to  make  way  with 
them  and  to  detest  them  with  all  our  hearts,  .  .  . 
and  in  ample  testimony  thereof  we  have  decided  with 
one  accord  to  tear  down,  ruin,  and  destroy  the  Temple, 
otherwise  the  papistical  Babylon  of  this  place;  we  ap- 


272  Aquitaine. 

prove  the  seizure  and  all  that  was  done  .  .  .  and 
direct  that  the  receipts  from  the  large  and  small  Cross, 
the  three  Chalices  .  .  .  and  other  furnishings 
.     .     .     shall  be  chiefly  sent  to  Messieurs  the  Princes." 

In  this  spirit  the  Religionists  fell  on  the  Abbey  and 
left  it  almost  in  ruins.  In  the  following  year  d'Aubign^ 
and  his  garrison  held  Maillezais  for  Henr^^  of  Navarre, 
and  a  new  life  began  for  the  monastic  buildings  which 
still  stood.  At  the  death  of  Henry  III  the  Leaguers 
had  hailed  as  King,  Charles  X,  the  old  Cardinal  de 
Bourbon  who  was  said  to  be  "devout  to  superstition, 
generous,  voluptuous,  and  credulous  to  excess." 

"Seeing,"  writes  Brochet,  the  learned  historian  of 
Maillezais,  "the  ambitious  family  of  Lorraine  behind 
the  royal  soutane  of  his  competitor,"  Henr}^  seized  the 
person  of  the  Cardinal  and  sent  him  for  safe-keeping 
to  d'Aubign^  at  Maillezais,  and  the  strange  life  of  the 
Abbey  began  in  earnest.  In  the  vaulted  room  of  the 
monastery  the  old  Cardinal,  who  had  been  acclaimed 
King,  muttered  his  prayers  and  shivered  in  the  low, 
miasmatic  climate;  d'Aubign^,  who  disliked  the  part  of 
jailer,  lived  and  fumed  in  the  Bishop's  Palace  and  con- 
soled himself  by  writing  the  Histoire  des  Histoires;  his 
soldiers  lodged  in  the  cells  of  the  monks  and  wandered 
about  the  great  ruins  of  the  old  church.  In  1598, 
when  Henry  IV  promulgated  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  the 
Benedictines  took  immediate  advantage  of  the  measure 
of  pacification  to  begin  a  daily  pilgrimage  from  the  vil- 
lage to  the  ruins  of  their  monaster}^  and  three  years 


Maillezais.  273 

later  d'Aubigne  gave  them  the  ancient  refectory  as  a 
place  of  devotion,  and  ordered  that  the  drawbridge 
should  be  lowered  as  soon  as  they  appeared.  A  stranger 
or  more  melancholy  picture  can  scarcely  be  imagined 
than  that  of  the  walls  of  the  old  Abbey  standing  among 
its  ruins;  the  figures  of  a  few  exiled  Benedictines  cross- 
ing their  own  drawbridge  to  pray  in  their  desolate 
church;  the  careless,  heretical  soldiers,  who  lounged 
about  the  holy  places,  watched  them  with  indifference; 
while  the  irascible,  tired  face  of  the  old  Huguenot  Cap- 
tain looked  from  his  windows  in  the  Palace.  It  is  to  be 
regretted  that  de  Rochebrune,  the  sympathetic  etcher 
of  Fontenay,  did  not  live  to  re-create  this  strange  scene 
in  the  life  of  his  country. 

In  162 1  the  Huguenot  occupation  of  Maillezais  came 
to  an  abrupt  close.  Louis  XIII  entered  the  neighbour- 
ing city  of  Fontenay  and  the  garrison  of  the  monastery 
surrendered  without  a  blow.  Catholicism  was  trium- 
phant, and  after  this  political  victory,  its  religious 
crusade  was  so  successful  that  the  records  of  La  Vendee 
are  filled  with  detailed  recitals  of  converted  heretics  or 
with  these  simple,  significant  words,  "Decease  of  a 
Calvinist,"  which  is  to  be  interpreted  as  another  con- 
version. 

The  condition  of  the  Bishopric  of  Maillezais  was  by 
no  means  as  prosperous  as  the  general  CathoHc  rejoic- 
ing of  the  country  would  seem  to  imply.  The  Cathedral 
was  almost  totally  demolished,  the  Palace  and  the 
monastic  buildings  were  in  very  bad  repair;  since  the 


274  Aquitaine. 

« 

retreat  of  the  sea  the  adjoining  land  had  become  swampy 
and  malarious,  and  to  voluntarily  return  to  a  home  of 
stony  ruins  in  an  atmosphere  of  miasmas  and  low  fevers 
was  no  small  test  of  pious  zeal.  The  Saints  and  mar- 
tyrs of  an  earlier  day  would  have  rejoiced  in  such  an 
opportunity  of  service,  but  the  prelates  of  the  XVII 
centur}'  were  not  equal  to  the  sacrifice.  They  took 
up  residence  in  their  Castle  of  Hermenauld  or  in  the 
Priory  of  Saint-Hilaire  at  Fontenay;  and  in  1629  Mon- 
seigneur  de  Bethune  was  so  pleased  with  the  comforts, 
the  conveniences,  and  the  church  of  Fontenay,  where 
the  Priory  was  situated,  that  he  conceived  the  idea 
of  the  transference  of  his  seat  from  the  desolated  and 
almost  deserted  village  to  the  pleasant  town,  of  the 
creation  of  a  double  ecclesiastical  title,  "Bishop  of 
Maillezais  and  Fontenay-le-Comte,"  and  of  the  eleva- 
tion of  Notre-Dame,  the  fine  church  of  Fontenay,  to 
the  rank  of  Cathedral. 

This  plan  met  with  the  favour  of  Urban  VIII  who 
issued  a  Bull  for  its  consummation,  but  it  did  not  meet 
with  the  approval  of  the  citizens  of  the  new  episcopal 
city.  They  made  many  polite  and  unreasonable  pro- 
tests, declaring  that  the  city  could  not  afford  so  sudden 
and  notable  an  addition  to  its  inhabitants,  and  that  the 
price  of  living  would  be  increased;  but  their  real  dread 
was  the  permanent  residence  of  lords  who,  they  believed, 
would  undermine  municipal  freedom.  ' '  Monsieur  the 
Bishop,"  reads  a  letter  of  1631,  "is  now  our  .  .  .  good 
guest,  for  it  is  his  pleasure  to  put  distance  between  him- 


Maillezais.  275 

self  and  his  old  swamp.  Resident  here,  he  will  wish  to 
play  the  master,  his  gracious  manners  will  change  to 
lordly  airs.  It  is  never  well  to  receive  into  one's  house  a 
greater  than  one's  self." 

The  Bull  of  Urban  VIII  did  not  take  effect,  nor 
would  Richelieu  raise  Maillezais  from  its  ruins.  The 
plan  of  that  far-seeing  statesman  was  to  transfer  the 
See  to  the  famous  Calvinistic  stronghold  of  La  Rochelle, 
as  soon  as  the  royal  troops  should  succeed  in  conquering 
it;  and  in  pursuance  to  this  wise  scheme,  Innocent  X, 
on  the  second  of  May,  1648,  took  from  the  devastated 
home  of  the  Benedictines  even  its  purely  nominal  title 
of  "city,"  and  elevated  La  Rochelle  to  the  episcopal 
rank. 

Some  of  its  monks,  refusing  secularisation,  remained 
disconsolate  among  the  ruins;  after  1666  the  Abbey  be- 
came only  a  farm  of  the  Bishops  of  La  Rochelle;  and  in 
1790  it  was  sold  to  a  layman  who  turned  it  into  a 
quarry.  Delicate  pieces  of  sculpture  were  smoothed 
into  the  proper  shapes  for  building  blocks;  others,  un- 
touched, were  incorporated  into  houses  of  the  town; 
the  carved  tombs  of  an  Abbot,  a  woman,  and  a  warrior 
— perhaps  a  Count  of  Poitou — are  among  those  which 
disappeared  in  this  barbarous  destruction,  and  it  is 
small  consolation  to  read  that  the  owner  of  the  ' '  quarry 
made  trade  but  no  fortune  at  all."  Fifty  years  later 
some  young  men  discovered  bits  of  rose-windows,  of 
emblazoned  shields,  of  carved  flowers,  angels,  tombs, 
and  the  remains  of  a  tower;  but  the  quarry  field  had  been 


276  Aquitaine. 

so  well  cleared  that,  even  if  the  government  had  opened 
a  lavish  exchequer,  there  was  no  hope  of  restoration, 
and  to-day  it  is  unhappily  certain  that  the  great  Abbey 
of  Maillezais  will  never  live  again. 

To  reach  the  quiet  village  of  the  present  day  the  trav- 
eller must  leave  the  little  branch  railroad  at  Fontenay-le- 
Comte  and  take  the  mail-coach  which  starts  every 
morning  at  six  o'clock.  If  he  is  book-learned  he  will 
believe  that  he  is  going  to  "the  island"  of  Maillezais, 
and  for  nearly  two  hours  he  will  watch  for  some  signs 
of  "land  surrounded  by  water."  In  summer,  fields  of 
yellow  grain  will  stretch  far  into  the  distance  of  the 
plains,  the  early,  rising  sun  will  beat  hotly  upon  the 
pleasant,  monotonous  landscape.  After  an  hour's 
jogging  along  the  white  roadway  the  walls  of  Maillezais 
will  rise  in  the  far  distance.  Still  there  is  no  appear- 
ance of  "land  surrounded  bv  water." 

The  traveller,  perplexed,  turned  to  his  companion,  a 
priest  who  had  been  diligently  reading  his  breviary. 
"Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Cur^,  a  thousand  pardons,  I  see 
the  walls  of  Maillezais  but  not  the  island  on  which  they 
are  situated." 

The  Abb^  laughed.  "Every  one  who  is  an  inhabit- 
ant of  this  place  believes  that  he  lives  on  an  island;  but 
to  the  stranger  this  distinction,  like  that  of  a  French 
title,  must  seem  a  courtesy  to  antiquity,  to  tradition, 
rather  than  an  actual  fact  of  modem  times." 

"Yet,  Monsieur  I'Abb^,"  the  driver  interposed, 
"when  the  sea-tides  swept  up  to  our  city  in  ancient 


PEASANTS 


WERE    SLOWLY    PLYING    UP    AND    DOWN    THE    TINY 
STREAM." MAILLEZAIS. 


277 


Maillezais. 


279 


times  the  surrounding  streams  were  doubtless  large, 
very  large " 

"  'In  ancient  times,'  my  friend,  'in  ancient  times,' 
— ^that  is  the  point.  You  see  Monsieur,"  turning  to  the 
traveller,  "what  this  good  Loiset  says  is  perfectly 
true,  but  the  salt  waters  of  the  sea,  which  swept  near 
the  island,  suddenly  retired  during  the  Vespers  of  a  fall 
evening  of  1460 — and  never  returned.  If  you  will  give 
yourself  the  trouble  to  look  on  either  side,  you  will  see 
what  has  become  of  Loiset's  'large,  very  large  streams' 
of  ancient  times,  that  used  to  outline  more  obviously 
the  island  of  Maillezais." 

They  approached  a  tiny  bridge  and  the  driver  consid- 
erately stopped.  The  coach  occupied  almost  the  entire 
length  of  the  bridge,  and  the  stream  was  scarcely  more 
than  a  long,  thin  line  of  stagnant  water.  Peasants  with 
loads  of  grass  picturesquely  piled  in  scows  were  slowly 
plying  up  and  down  the  tiny  stream,  and  with  each 
thrust  of  their  poles  they  broke  the  green  scum  which 
covered  the  shallow  waters.  It  was  scarcely  a  stone's 
throw  from  shore  to  shore,  and  the  bridge  which  con- 
nected the  "island"  of  Maillezais  with  the  mainland  of 
La  Vendee  was  more  massive  but  no  broader  than  that 
of  a  diminutive  Japanese  landscape. 

"  It  may  not  seem  to  you.  Monsieur,  that  so  slight  a 
separation  from  the  mainland  is  worthy  of  geo- 
graphical notice,  but  we  Vendeans  are  tenacious  of 
ancient  ideas."  His  thin,  sensitive  mouth  and  laugh- 
ing grey  eyes  took  on  a  melancholy  expression.     "You 


28o  Aquitaine. 

laugh  at  us  in  your  great  world,  but  in  this  instance  our 
idea  has  picturesqueness  and,  as  the  streams  are  not 
3'et  dry,  accuracy  as  well." 

"Perhaps  the  'great  world'  is  not  always  accurate. 
Monsieur  I'Abbe,"  said  the  traveller  as  they  drove  on, 
"  and  I  confess  to  you  that  some  of  the  things  which  I 
have  read  of  Maillezais  puzzle  me ;  I  feel  very  expectant 
— on  the  threshold,  as  it  were,  of  real  discovery." 

"And  does  the  great  world  ever  speak  of  little 
Maillezais?"  asked  the  priest,  with  a  shrug  of  his  lean 
shoulders. 

"  It  says  at  least  this,  Monsieur  '1  Abb^,  'Maillezais 
is  but  a  memor}"  so  far  as  its  people  and  power  are 
concerned.  It  is  not  even  a  Vendean  town  as  many 
suppose '  " 

The  Abbe  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  with  real 
glee.  "  Will  you  not  come  and  read  those  lines  to  m\' 
good  friend,  the  Cur^  of  Maillezais?  I  want  to  hear 
him  answer  me  when  I  tell  him  that  he  is  caring  for 
phantom  souls  in  a  phantom  town,  or  else  I  will  tell 
him  his  cure  is  so  small  that  it  is  imperceptible  on  the 
earth's  surface.  But  tell  me  truly,  Monsieur,  did  you 
also  think  this  ? " 

"  When  I  found  that  a  mail-coach  ran  between  Maille- 
zais and  Fontenay,  I  scarely  thought  that  such  a  service 
would  be  kept  up  on  account  of  a  solitary,  ruined  Abbey 
— I  am  on  my  voyage  of  disco ver>' " 

They  turned  into  the  long  main  street  of  the  village. 

**Such  is  our  little  Maillezais,"  said  the  Abb^  with  a 


28l 


Maillezais.  283 

wave  of  his  hand,  '*  its  'power'  is  indeed  gone;  the  trad- 
ing of  its  fairs  has  departed;  and  with  the  tides  of  the 
ocean  in  the  XV  century  the  small  importance  of  its 
fishing  commerce  dwindled.  Yet  it  exists — it  is  still 
*a  Vendean  town'  whose  people  have  as  real  heart- 
throbs as  any,  perhaps,  in  your  great  world." 

The  coach  pulled  up,  and  the  Abbe  led  the  traveller 
through  another  long,  winding  country  street  to  the 
gates  of  the  estate  to  which  the  Abbey-ruins  now 
belong. 

"I  may  not  go  in  with  you,  Monsieur,"  said  the 
Abbe,  "for  I  must  do  much  before  noon,  but  enter 
freely — and  do  not  forget  that  I  consider  you  have 
promised  to  meet  me  at  the  presbytery  of  the  Cure  this 
very  afternoon." 

For  a  few  moments  the  traveller  watched  the  hurry- 
ing priest  until  his  soutane  began  to  look  like  a  black 
speck  on  the  dazzling,  white  road — and  then  he  turned 
to  the  Abbey.  Although  so  secularised,  it  still  lies 
isolated  from  the  neighboring  land.  A  grass-lined 
moat  stretches  between  the  dusty  road  and  the  chateau; 
the  site  on  which  the  Cathedral  was  built  rises  high 
above  the  surrounding  fields;  and  the  Abbey-land  slopes 
to  the  little  stream  where  the  grass-laden  scows  pass 
between  the  island  and  the  opposite  shores. 

Entering  the  gates,  the  whole  plan  of  the  Abbey 
b)ecomes  clear.  Its  buildings  were  constructed  on  the 
site  of  the  Roman  "castrum,"  a  small  plateau  that  is 
slightly  elevated  above  the  dead  level  of  the  surround- 


284  Aquitaine. 

ing  countr\%  and  was  defended  in  the  fierce  days  of  the 
Middle  Ages  by  the  river,  by  moats,  and  by  its  own 
strong  walls.  On  one  side  of  the  plateau,  the  site  of  the 
ancient  Episcopal  Palace,  there  stands  to-day  a  small, 
modernised  chateau  which  contains  subterranean  re- 
mains of  the  older  construction  and  a  round,  vaulted 
room  which  was  formerly  the  Council*  Chamber  of  the 
Bishops.  To  the  left  of  the  chateau  are  the  larger  farm- 
buildings  of  the  estate,  and  in  spite  of  the  hay  which 
hangs  from  the  windows,  the  cart  that  stands  in  one  big 
door,  and  the  fat,  old  countr^^-woman  who  is  busily 
attending  to  chores,  the  monastic  character  of  the 
architecture  is  apparent  in  the  gable  and  buttresses. 
The  vaulted  cellar  of  this  farm-building  is  a  large, 
damp  room,  over  twenty-three  feet  broad  and  more 
than  an  hundred  feet  in  length.  It  is  dark  and  has  an 
atmosphere  of  deathly  chill,  but  its  walls  and  its  vault- 
ing are  so  fineh',  so  firmly,  and  so  largely  planned  that 
it  is  worthy  to  be  called  a  hall.  A  stairway  leads  from 
it  to  the  old  octagonal  kitchen  with  its  big  fireplace; 
and  although  it  serves  homely,  modem  uses,  the  build- 
ing still  contains  the  refectory,  the  infinnar^^  with 
its  piscina,  and  a  cell  where  Rabelais  is  said  to  have 
expiated  the  sins  of  an  unbridled  tongue. 

Before  the  chateau  and  the  farm  stretches  a  large, 
stony,  stubbly  expanse  of  ground  bounded  In'  the  re- 
maining walls -of  the  ruined  Cathedral.  This  empty 
space  was  formerly  occupied  by  the  church,  for  Saint- 
Pierre  in  its  days  ot  magnificence  was  over  three  hundred 


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285 


Maillezais.  287 

feet  in  length.  In  describing  this  church,  tradition  ex- 
hausts all  wealth  of  beautiful  adjectives.  The  "bold- 
ness," ''elegance,"  and  "perfection"  of  the  Gothic,  and 
its  "grace  and  lightness";  the  heavy  cylindrical  pillars 
of  the  nave  and  the  groups  of  fine  columns  in  the  choir; 
the  arcades,  galleries,  and  large  windows;  the  ineffable 
richness  of  the  sculptures,  the  garlands  of  carved  tulips 
and  vine  leaves,  the  capitals,  the  rood-screen,  and  the 
stately  stalls  cut  in  stone, — these  are  some  of  the  details 
which  composed  this  marvellous  whole. 

It  is  claimed  that  all  the  epochs  of  French  ecclesias- 
tical architecture  were  nobly  represented  in  its  con- 
struction. The  narthex  showed  the  pure  Romanesque 
of  the  XI  century.  The  transition  of  the  XII  and 
XIII  centuries,  the  Gothic  of  the  next  hundred  years, 
the  Flamboyant,  and  the  Renaissance,  followed  each 
other  in  the  nave,  the  transepts,  and  the  choir,  as  they 
had  succeeded  in  the  chronology  of  architectural  evolu- 
tion. The  church  was  preceded  by  two  heavy  Roman- 
esque towers  and  crowned  by  five  spires,  one  above  each 
angle  of  the  transepts  and  one  over  the  crossing,  and 
dominated  the  low  surrounding  country  in  indescrib- 
able beauty  and  magnificence. 

He  who  visits  the  Maillezais  of  the  XX  century  will 
find  it  easier  to  picture  this  great  Cathedral  from  its 
ground  plan  and  its  description  than  from  its  ravaged 
ruins,  and  in  the  quiet  of  the  lowlands  of  Poitou  he 
must  re-build  in  imagination  much  that  is  not  suggested 
to  the  eye. 


288  Aquitaine. 

Bourloton  writes  that  "the  ruins  of  to-day  still  show 
the  majestic  character  and  the  harmony  of  the  work  of 
Theodelin,  the  unity  and  the  majesty  of  dogma  embod- 
ied in  the  imposing  sobriety  of  the  Romanesque  inspir- 
ation; the  simple  and  austere  Christianity  of  the  first 
centuries,  still  preserved  in  the  sombre  mass  of  its  pillars 
and  its  walls."  These  poetic  words  apply  to  many  an 
old  creation  of  the  Romanesque,  but  to  the  narthex  of 
Maillezais  only  when  it  is  seen  through  the  knowledge 
and  imagination  of  the  archaeologist. 

The  exterior  is  flanked  by  the  fortifications  of 
d'Aubignd  and  crowned  with  machicolations;  the  re- 
mains of  its  towers,  built  with  the  great  stones  of  the 
famous  "  Roche  aux  Moines,"  are  but  mutilated  trunks, 
and  one  climbs  over  the  fallen  stairways  and  among  the 
debris  of  its  walls  to  see  only  frescoes  that  are  almost 
indistinguishable,  and  other  heaps  of  debris  and  dirt. 
One  side-wall  of  the  nave  still  stands.  The  strong,  old 
buttresses  still  support  it,  and  on  the  inner  side  vines 
trail  over  its  deep-cut  capitals  and  heavy,  empty  win- 
dow frames.  Beyond  the  nave  are  the  most  beautiful 
of  the  ruins,  the  slender  arcades  of  the  windows  of  the 
northern  transept.  There  are  the  traces  of  a  gallery,  a 
broken  arch,  a  little  door,  a  stairway, — and  the  ruins  of 
the  Cathedral  of  Maillezais  are  at  an  end. 

Nowhere  in  France  have  the  two  great  destroyers 
of  churches,  the  Huguenot  and  the  revolutionists,  suc- 
ceeded more  thoroughly  than  here.  Alet,  in  all  its 
decay,  is  more  complete;  Macon,  in  spite  of  its  desolation, 


2:    I 

S   o 
£   9 


VCL.  ;i. — 19 


289 


Maillezais.  291 

continues  to  celebrate  the  mysteries  of  the  Faith;  Die 
and  Valence  have  been  restored,  and  Maguelonne  is  still 
a  place  of  worship.  But  Maillezais  is  like  none  of  these. 
It  is  no  longer  a  place  of  worship;  it  no  longer  belongs 
to  the  Church.  It  is  scarcely  susceptible  of  restoration, 
and  to  regain  and  rebuild  it  as  a  monastery  would 
hardly  have  entered  the  mind  of  a  Benedictine  of 
yesterday  and  is  not  within  the  power  of  the  monk 
of  to-day. 

Cromwell  and  religious  bands  left  in  England  such 
lonely  walls  as  these  of  Lower  Poitou,  and  at  Maillezais 
one  is  reminded  of  England's  ruined  Abbeys.  The 
ruins  of  Maillezais  are  beautiful,  they  are  picturesque 
as  they  loom  above  the  plains,  but  they  give  but  little 
idea  of  the  former  church.  That  wonderful  building 
was  only  another  "papistical  Babylon,"  a  hated  sym- 
bol, to  the  Huguenots  of  La  Vendee.  They  destroyed 
it  so  utterty  that  its  mere  ground-plan  speaks  as 
eloquently  if  not  as  beautifully  as  the  existing  walls, 
and  those  who  go  to  Maillezais  see  scarcely  as 
much  of  Saint-Pierre  as  those  in  Rome  see  of  Trajan's 
Forum.  Ruins  of  great  days  have,  however,  a  peculiar 
beauty  and  charm,  born  of  their  solitude,  their  history, 
and  their  legends;  and  as  long  as  its  high  walls  shall 
stand  this  old  Vendean  Abbey  will  be  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  and  interesting  pilgrimages  of  western 
France. 


292  Aquitaine. 

The  Cathedral  of  Saint-Louis  of  La  Ro- 

chelle  is  a  product  of  the  unfortunate  and 

*  inept    ecclesiastical    architecture    of    the 

XVII  and  XVIII  centuries.     Its  exterior 

is  a  large,  bulky,  and  uncouth  structure,  and  the  interior 

has  the  graceless  forms  of  \he  religious  buildings  of 

Pseudo-Classicism.     The    dome    of  the  crossing,   the 

three  aisles,  the  big  ambulatory,  the  round  arches  and 

their  keystones,  the  cornice,  the  circular  windows,  are 

not  disguised  by  any  artistic  detail  nor  half  hidden  in 

a  "dim,    religious   mystery."     The  main  body   of   the 

church  is  flooded  with  light  and  stands  in  white,  gaunt 

nudity.     It  cannot  be  claimed  that  it  is  without  form, 

but    it    is  void — of  beauty,  religious  fitness,   or  any 

pleasant  architectural  significance. 

It  would  be  the  most  unpleasing,  disenchanting 
church  in  France  if  its  aisles  were  not  crowded  with 
memories  of  those  strangely  assorted  people  through 
whose  life,  sufferings,  and  often  death,  the  contested 
honour  of  a  Cathedral  came  to  La  Rochelle.  Some  of 
the  most  argued  questions  of  the  history  of  the  Church 
in  France  seem  to  re-echo  here,  the  questions  of  the 
Religious  Wars.  They  are  interesting,  insistent;  not 
that  all  these  questions  have  not  been  answered  long 
since  by  the  adherents  of  each  Faith  in  the  most 
satisfactory  and  contradictory  manner,  but  that  in  the 
final  analysis  facts  are  more  satisfying  than  polemics, 
and  facts  are  many  in  both  Churches'  history  of  La 
Rochelle. 


La  Rochelle.  293 

In  the  yea  1558,  nearly  a  century  before  the  rule  of 
its  Bishops  had  begun,  Antoine  de  Bourbon,  King  of 
Navarre,  and  his  wife,  the  far-famed  Jeanne  d'Albret, 
came  to  the  city,  and  during  their  sojourn,  writes 
Philip  Vincent,  an  old-time  Protestant  pastor,  "a 
band  of  actors  arrived.  One  day  an  important  play 
was  announced,  so  there  was  an  extraordinary  con- 
course of  people.  The  prince  and  also  Lhe  queen,  his 
wife,  were  present.  A  woman  was  represented,  who, 
sick  unto  death,  heaved  great  sighs  and  asked  for  con- 
solation, whereupon  the  priest  of  the  parish  was  sent 
for.-  He  presented  himself  with  all  his  apparatus  and 
spared  nothing  ...  to  bring  her  some  repose; 
but  it  was  impossible.  From  rank  to  rank  the  other 
ecclesiastics  followed,  but  with  no  better  success. 
Besides  these,  several  religious  Orders  were  called  in, 
who  did  their  best  to  find  a  remedy;  but  neither  relics, 
nor  well-sealed  bags  of  indulgences  which  they  read  to 
her  one  by  one,  nor  even  the  ceremony  of  vesting  her  in 
a  garb  of  Saint  Francis,  availed;  the  poor  sick  woman 
found  herself  in  no  way  relieved  and  said,  with  lamen- 
tations, that  not  one  among  them  all  knew  how  to 
receive  her  confession. 

"When  she  had  come  to  this  state  one  of  her  acquaint- 
ances advanced,  who  came  to  tell  her,  as  if  in  secret, 
looking  here  and  there  to  see  if  there  were  not  some  one 
who  could  hear  him,  that  he  knew  a  man  who  could  con- 
fess her  perfectly  and  put  her  in  a  good  estate;  but  as 
his  constitution  was  such  that  the  open  air  of  day  was 


294  Aquitaine. 

hurtful  and  unhealthy  to  him,  he  went  out  voluntarily 
only  after  the  sun  had  set.  Whereupon  she  begged 
that  he  should  be  brought;  and  after  some  little  time, 
feigning  that  night  was  come,  they  conducted  him  to 
her.  She  saw  a  simple  man,  dressed  as  any  other,  who, 
after  some  conversation  at  her  bedside  which  the  audi- 
ence could  not  hear  but  from  which  .  .  .  she 
derived  a  great  satisfaction,  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
little  book  which  he  presented  to  her  and  said  it  con- 
tained infallible  prescriptions  for  her  evil,  so  that  if  she 
would  put  them  in  practice  .  .  .  she  would 
find  herself  as  well  as  ever  in  a  few  days. 

"Having  retired,  and  the  sick  woman  with  her  bed 
having  been  carried  from  the  stage,  after  some  inter- 
lude, she  presented  herself,  no  longer  sick  and  in  bed 
but  well  and  entirely  cured;  and  after  having  walked 
about  two  or  three  times,  she  told  the  audience  that  the 
unknown  had  succeeded  admirably  well  in  confessing 
her  .  .  .  and  that  .  .  .  the  prescriptions 
contained  in  the  little  book  .  .  .  were  .  .  . 
incomparable,  as  could  be  seen  by  their  prompt  effect 
upon  herself.  Thus  if  any  of  them  were  struck  by  the 
same  evil  she  counselled  them  to  have  recourse  to  the 
same  remedies,  and  to  this  effect  she  would  willingly 
lend  them  her  little  book;  but  first,  however,  she 
wished  to  warn  them  of  a  double  inconvenience;  one 
that  the  book  was  a  little  warm  to  the  touch  of  the  hand; 
and  the  other,  that  ...  it  had  an  importunate 
odour  of  the  fagot.     For  the  rest,  if  any  one  inquired 


La  Rochelle.  295 

her  name  or  that  of  the  book  which  she  praised  so 
highly,  these  were  two  enigmas  which  she  left  them  to 
divine. 

"All  this  having  been  represented  with  great  grace, 
the  prince  and  the  queen  his  wife  and  also  their  court 
testified  to  having  enjoyed  it  greatly,  and  following 
their  example,  a  large  number  of  the  audience,  of  whom 
many  were  already  disgusted  with  the  Roman  religion, 
and  understood  that  this  sick  woman  was  Truth.  Those 

.  .  .  who  had  not  rightly  shrived  her,  those  who 
took  the  titles  of  pastor  and  of  doctor,  ...  in- 
stead of  confessing  Truth,  held  her  in  contempt;  the 
last  comer  was  one  of  those  so-called  heretics; 
the  book  which  was  hot  and  smelt  of  the  fagot,  the 
New  Testament,  which  people  were  forbidden  to  have 
in  their  homes  or  to  read  there  under  penalty  of  the 
stake. 

"Religion  is  too  solemn  to  be  acted,"  continues  the 
reverend  writer,  ..."  too  holy  to  be  dragged  on 
the  stage."  But  the  ferment  of  doctrinal  discord 
through  all  the  country  was  so  great  that  it  affected 
every  grade  of  society,  and  among  many  cities  full  of  its 
leaven,  none  was  more  effectually  permeated  than  La 
Rochelle.  The  whole  life  of  the  city  was  feverish  with 
the  fervour  of  fanaticism.  Husbands  were  divided 
against  wives,  children  and  parents  were  mutually  sus- 
picious, and  friends  and  peaceable  fellow-citizens  be- 
came bitter  enemies  and  spies.  Ecclesiastics  appealed 
bitterly  to  magistrates,  the  stake  was  made  ready,  and 


296  Aquitaine. 

heretical  meetings  were  held  secretly — fearfully — at 
night.  The  goodman  of  the  house  kept  watch  outside; 
in  order  to  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  scandal,  women 
whose  husbands  were  Catholics  were  not  admitted  to 
these  nocturnal  sessions;  and  the  elders  of  the  new 
Church  were  known  only  by  a  conventional  letter. 

Notable  defections  from  the  older  religion  becoming 
more  and  more  numerous,  the  Protestants  began  to 
hold  open  meetings  in  crowded  halls;  and  finally,  in 
15  61,  the  two  Christian  bodies  lived  together  in  La 
Rochelle  with  such  an  appearance  of  accord  that  both 
assembled  in  the  same  Church  of  Saint-Barth^lemy. 
When  one  congregation  entered  the  other  left;  to 
accommodate  the  Consistory,  priests  began  Mass  at  a 
very  early  hour;  and  in  return,  the  Reformers  paid  for 
the  candles  and  lamps  of  the  Mass.  Catholicism  stead- 
ily declined.  Monks  and  nuns  were  seen  less  frequently, 
several  conventional  establishments  were  deserted,  and 
on  a  May  morning  of  1562,  in  the  great  open  square,  the 
Protestant  pastors  administered  the  Communion  of 
their  Church  to  more  than  seven  thousand  persons. 

Unfortunately  the  dominant  virtue  of  the  Christian 
religions  of  that  period  seems  to  have  been  blind  and 
rabid  loyalty  rather  than  charity  or  tolerance;  and  the 
simple,  beautiful  ceremony  of  the  morning  was  followed 
in  the  afternoon  by  the  pillage  of  Catholic  churches, 
and  the  destruction  of  many  objects  sacred  to  Catholic 
worshippers.  The  Protestant  pastors  denounced  these 
depredations  although  they  were  generally  conceded  to 


La  Rochelle.  297 

be  acts  of  "folly  conducted  with  some  wisdom,"  and 
less  heinous  than  the  Catholic  massacre  of  Vassy.  For 
"there  is  at  all  times,"  wrote  the  intrepid  Huguenot 
Captain  Agrippa  d'Aubigne,  "a  notable  difference  be- 
tween the  hewing  down  of  dead  images  through  zeal  for 
the  honour  of  God,  and  the  cruel  destruction  of  the 
living  images  of  God  to  satisfy  hatred  and  envy." 

Gradually  La  Rochelle  became  "the  Protestant 
metropolis  of  the  West,"  so  heterodox  a  city  that  every 
Catholic  service  was  proscribed,  and  the  rumour  of  the 
King's  edict  of  mutual  toleration  which  caused  rejoic- 
ing in  so  many  Huguenot  hearts  brought  to  these 
powerful  separatists  only  hesitation  and  forebodings. 
One  of  the  curiously  interesting  psychological  facts  is 
the  attitude  with  which  each  Faith  viewed  its  own  acts. 
If  Catholics  burned  perishable  bodies  they  vowed  it  was 
but  dreary  labour — to  save  immortal  souls.  And  the 
intolerance  of  the  Reformers  has  been  as  convincingly 
justified  by  Edgar  Quinet,  who  writes  that  "the  an- 
cient religion  was  immutably  resolved  to  extirpate  all 
which  she  did  not  embrace,  .  .  .  the  issue  was 
evident,  ...  If  the  new  religion  had  adopted 
the  rule  of  sparing  the  old,  in  time  no  doubt  she,  who 
spared  her  adversary,  would  have  disappeared  before 
one  who  never  lost  an  occasion  to  destroy  her.  To' 
reproach  Protestantism  for  intolerance  is  to  reproach  it 
with  having  desired  to  live." 

In  spite  of  the  arguments  and  oratory  of  some  Catho- 
lics and  some  Protestants,  the  Edict  of  Nantes  was. 


298  Aquitaine. 

signed,  and  with  it  the  Faithful  and  their  clergy  again 
entered  La  Rochelle.  They  were  restricted  as  much 
as  possible  by  a  Protestant  majority,  and  the  two  re- 
ligions were  exercised  with  mutual  suspicion  and  dis- 
cord until  the  fatal  intervention  of  Richelieu. 

For  a  long  time,  both  as  Churchman  and  statesman, 
the  Cardinal's  attention  had  been  drawn  to  this  hereti- 
cal stronghold.  It  was  not  a  parish  of  his  Bishopric  of 
LuQon  but  it  was  not  far  distant  from  that  city;  and 
during  his  residence  there  Richelieu  must  have  heard 
in  most  minute  detail  of  the  affairs  of  this  important 
and  heavy  charge  of  his  Brother  of  Saintes,  which  were 
scandalising  the  whole  Catholic  world.  When  he  ar- 
rived at  the  dignity  of  the  "red  hat"  the  Cardinal  con- 
sidered even  more  attentively  the  great  seaport  city, 
"whose  situation,"  Delayant  declares  to  be  "the  key- 
stone of  its  history,"  and  he  wrote  to  the  Archbishop 
of  Lyons,  "La  Rochelle  must  be  besieged  and  the 
Huguenots  chastised,  or  better  still,  destroyed." 

Richelieu  was  not  a  persecutor  of  the  old  type.  In 
the  evolution  of  the  spirit  of  tolerance  he  stands  between 
the  fiery  Dominic  and  the  more  rationally  and  beauti- 
fully holy  Saint-Frangois-de-Sales.  He  could  doubtless 
have  witnessed  an  auto-da-fe  with  mere  ennui,  or  an 
execution  with  calm  repugnance,  but  he  probably  be- 
lieved that  "to  minds  which  are  truly  great"  there 
are  means  far  mightier  than  the  sword — or  the 
stake.  He  was,  nevertheless,  potentially  if  not  spir- 
itually a  Catholic,  and  served   his   Church    especially 


V»" 


"^■^-Brar^ 


''••.V 


299 


La  Rochelle.  •         301 

well  when  he  was  actuated  by  weighty  reasons  of 
state. 

"La  Rochelle  must  be  besieged,"  wrote  the  great 
Cardinal,  and  immediately  bent  his  mighty  intelligence 
to  the  problem.  He  remembered  the  failure  of  1572, 
his  own  prestige  was  at  stake, — and  he  found  the  key 
to  this  difficult  situation.  Not  through  assaults  by  sea 
or  by  land,  not  by  great  battles  or  prowess,  but  by 
famine  should  the  rebellious  city  be  reduced. 

The  work  began.  Soldiers,  ungirding  their  swords, 
took  up  the  barrow  and  the  shovel;  dikes  were  built 
across  the  harbour  and  when  swept  away  by  the  sea 
they  were  built  again;  and  "Babylonian  walls  and 
monuments  of  Nineveh"  rose  to  surround  the  town  by 
land.  Meantime  "the  white  city"  gradually  sank  into 
a  place  of  desolation.  Protestant  England,  although 
lavish  of  promises,  gave  no  sign  of  rescue  by  sea  or  bv 
land.  Food  became  so  scarce  that  a  cat  was  a  delicacy 
and  stewed  parchment  was  considered  succulent. 
Whole  families  died,  and  were  left  lying  in  their  houses 
because  nobody  was  strong  enough  to  carry  them  to  the 
graveyard.  The  soldiers  could  no  longer  bear  arms  and 
went  about  leaning  on  sticks,  and  sentinels  perished  of 
hunger  at  their  posts.  "  It  makes  no  difference,  "said  their 
lieroic  leader,  "  if  but  one  is  left  to  close  the  gates."  At 
length  the  old,  the  sick,  and  many  women  were  sent 
from  the  city  to  find  succour  in  the  opposing  camp.  The 
'l^esiegers  drove  them  back,  the  besieged  did  not  dare  to 
open  their   gates.     "Walls  of   Babylon"  on  one  side, 


302  Aquitaine. 

on  the  other,  city  walls  as  grim  frowned  on  the  outcasts 
and  they  perished  miserably  between  two  armies  of 
their  own  people.  Within,  the  streets  had  become 
lugubrious  wastes  where  desolation  reigned,  and  where 
the  gaunt  and  emaciated  figures  of  the  starving  raised 
their  awful  dying  cry  for  continued  resistance. 

Finally,  when  of  twenty-eight  thousand  inhabitants 
scarcely  six  thousand  were  left,  the  brave  city  suc- 
cumbed, and  on  the  morning  of  All  Saints'  Day,  1628^ 
Richelieu  celebrated  Mass  in  the  Great  Temple.  The 
Cardinal,  always  mindful  of  the  practical,  ordered  that 
food  should  be  liberally  distributed;  and  fed  and  de- 
feated, the  survivors  listened  with  dull  anguish  to  the 
rumours  of  the  new  Bishopric  which  Richelieu  had  long 
been  planning  "to  give  them  for  their  sins,"  and  gazed 
bitterly  at  the  abomination  of  their  desolation,  at  the 
Catholics  who  began  again  to  walk  their  streets,  and  at 
the  conversion  of  their  Temple  into  the  Church  of  Saint- 
Barth^lemy.  Then  for  the  first  time  in  sixty  years, 
the  solemn  procession  of  the  Holy  Sacrament  took 
place  in  the  city.  The  Archbishop  of  Bordeaux  assisted 
by  two  priests  carried  the  Blessed  Host,  the  King  with 
Richelieu  at  his  side  followed  the  canopy,  its  comers 
were  borne  by  two  Dukes  and  two  Marshals  of  France, 
and  couriers  hastened  to  all  the  courts  of  Eiurope  to 
announce  the  triumphal  progress  of  religion. 

Not  in  vain  had  the  Cardinal  refused  the  Bishop  of 
Maillezais  subsidies  to  re-build  his  ruined  Cathedral, 
not  in  vain  had  the  Bull  which  elevated  a  near-by  city 


La  Rochelle. 


303 


lain  in  desuetude,  for  twenty  years  later,  on  the  Feast  of 
Saint  Luke  the  Evangelist,  Richelieu  their  great  enemy 
— though  dead — ^triumphed  a  second  time  over  the 
Rochelais.     The  last  Bishop  of  Maillezais  left  his  resi- 


"the  last  bishop  of  maillezais"  who  became 

"the  first  bishop  of  la  rochelle." 

(From  a  print  in  the  Library  of  the  Episcopal  Palace 

of  Lufon). 

dence  of  Fontenay-le-Comte  to  become  the  first  Bishop 
of  La  Rochelle. 

What  difference  did  it  make  that  the  twelve  monks 
of  the  ancient  Chapter  of  Maillezais  refused  to  give  up 


304 


Aquitaine. 


the  monastic  garb  in  order  to  constitute  the  new  Cathe- 
dral's Chapter?  What  matter  if,  during  the  Protestant 
occupation  of  La  Rochelle,  twelve  great  and  beautiful 

churches  of  the 
older  Faith  had 
been  * '  ruined  from 
roof  to  founda- 
tion-stone"? The 
older  Faith  was  tri- 
umphant. Monks 
and  nuns  flocked 
to  the  city  as  a 
"body  of  troops 
qualified  to  pre- 
serve the  victory," 
children  of  hereti- 
cal parents  were  so 
carefully  educated 
that  more  than 
>  )ne  man  whose 
father  had  starved 
in  the  Protesant 
cause  gladly  be- 
came a  priest,  and 
more  than  one 
woman  whose  parents  had  suffered  in  the  siege  vol- 
untarily took  the  veil;  and  Parliament,  looking  on  all 
these  things,  declared  that  the  "establishment  of  a 
Cathedral  in  the  city  of  La   Rochelle  was   the  most 


THE  OLD  TOWER  OF  SAINT-BARTHfeLEMY. LA 

ROCHELLE. 


La  Rochelle. 


3^5 


glorious  result  of  the  conquests  of  Louis  the  Just, 
whose  fruition  God  had  reserved  for  the  son."  It 
is  not  Richelieu  but  this  son,  Louis  XIV,  who,  at  the 
age  of  eight  is  accredited  with  having  procured  the 
episcopal  elevation;  and  in  honour  and  gratitude  to  the 


"a.  small  chapel  which  is  now  used  by  the  good  ursulines  of 
chavagnes." la  rochelle. 

child-king  and  his  father,  the  ancient  name  of  the  new 
Bishop's  church  was  changed  and  Saint-Barthelemy 
became  Saint-Louis. 

If  that  Cathedral  had  endured  until  the  present  day 
it  would  have  been,  if  not  the  most  beautiful,  at  least 

VOL.  II.— 20 


306  Aquitaine. 

one  of  the  most  interesting  of  religious  edifices.  When 
the  Catholics  took  it  they  declared  that  there  was  "as 
much  to  do  as  if  a  mosque  or  a  pagan  temple  were  to  be 
converted  into  a  church."  Yet  in  spite  of  many  trans- 
formations, the  form  of  the  Temple  remained  and  its 
early  arrangement  might  have  been  easily  divined. 
It  had  been  planned  by  no  less  an  architect  than  Phili- 
bert  Delorme,  designer  of  the  Tuileries;  the  first  stone 
had  been  placed  by  the  young  Henri  de  Cond^  in  1577, 
and  not  onlv  were  its  historical  associations  memorable, 
but  it  was  architecturally  curious  as  embodying  the 
Huguenot  ideal  of  "a  temple  made  with  hands."  Un- 
fortunately, after  having  served  two  Bishops  for  nearly 
forty  years,  it  was  destroyed  by  a  terrible  conflagration. 
Clouds  of  flame  and  smoke  broke  suddenly  from  its  roof, 
its  stones  fell  violently  asunder,  and  so  furious  and  swift 
was  the  fire  that  the  terrified  citizens  could  do  nothing 
but  watch  its  destructive  onslaught.  The  ruins  had 
scarcely  grown  cold  before  recriminations  and  per- 
secutions began.  The  Catholics  declared  that  the 
Huguenots  or  an  Huguenot,  enraged  at  the  so-called 
profanation  of  the  Temple  by  an  idolatrous  worship, 
had  set  it  on  fire.  The  Huguenots,  on  the  other  hand, 
protested  their  entire  innocence  and  declared,  not  un- 
reasonably, that  the  church's  destruction  was  caused 
by  sparks  from  a  great  bonfire  which  had  been  lighted 
in  the  Cathedral-square  the  evening  before  to  celebrate 
the  King's  recover}^  from  an  illness.  .  They  contended 
that  during  the  hours  of  the  night,  when  the  church  was 


La  Rochelle  307 

closed,  sparks  from  this  fire  must  have  smouldered  and 
spread,  and  that  this  was  a  rational  explanation  of  the 
violence  and  rapidity  of  the  fire. 

The  actual  cause  has  never  been  discovered;  but 
beside  their  suspicions  the  Bishop  and  the  Chapter  were 
confronted  by  the  material  discomfort  of  the  loss  of  a 
Cathedral.  They  appealed  to  the  Cure  of  the  parish  of 
Saint-Barthelemy  which  had  recently  been  re-built; 
but  as  neither  Bishop  nor  Chapter  had  been  practically 
interested  in  the  new  church,  both  Cur6  and  people  pro- 
tested and  received  the  Canons  coldly.  During  a  time 
the  Offices  were  sung  in  a  small  chapel  which  is  now 
used  by  the  good  Ursulines  of  Chavagnes.  There  were 
also  plans  for  a  new  Cathedral,  different  sites  were  dis- 
cussed, and  once  stakes  were  placed.  But  there  was 
much  difficulty  in  getting  money;  even  in  1740,  after 
nearly  a  century  of  repressive  measures,  there  were  "a 
large  number  of  Huguenots"  in  the  city,  and  finally  it 
was  by  the  "liberality  of  Louis,  King  of  France,"  and 
the  unstinted  labours  of  the  clergy  that,  in  1742,  the 
first  stone  was  laid  and  blessed. 

In  spite  of  the  "liberality  "  of  the  royal  profligate  the 
edifice  is  not  yet  finished.  And  indeed  what  would  it 
be  if  it  should  attain  to  completion?  The  possibilities 
are  small;  for  the  Cathedral  is  barren  and  unattractive, 
seeming  to  reveal  the  pharisaic  religionism  of  those 
who  built  it,  and  religion  here  seems  a  priceless  treas- 
ure ensconced  in  a  solid,  commonplace  packing- 
box. 


308  Aquitaine. 


Saintes. 


On  the  banks  of  the  broad  Charente,  which 
flows  sluggishly  in  summer  through  a  low, 
dull  countr}',  lies  Saintes,  an  old,  historic 
•  spot  become  unimportant  in  these  modem 

times,  whose  pagan  ruins  lie  neglected  in  the  quiet  of  the 
countr}^  suburbs,  and  whose  old  Christian  towers  rise 
above  the  white  walls  and  red-tiled  roofs  of  modem 
houses. 

This  is  "one  of  the  most  interesting  cities  of  western 
France" ;  and  being  in  a  chronological  mood,  the  travel- 
ler went  first  to  the  Roman  monimients,  and  from  there 
began,  as  it  were,  a  strange  and  lonely  walk  down  the 
ages.  He  saw  the  formless  ruins  of  the  Baths,  and  as 
he  looked  a  little  snake  wriggled  into  its  hole.  A  small, 
stone  chamber  attracted  his  attention,  and  looking  be- 
tween the  iron  bars  of  its  door  he  saw  three  venerable 
sarcophaguses;  between  the  lid  and  the  sides  there  was 
modem  lead,  and  about  the  tombs  an  epitaph  told  that 
"here  lay"  a  family  who  had  died  less  than  an  hundred 
years  ago.  Climbing  over  piles  of  stone,  the  traveller 
saw  another  sarcophagus,  empty,  lidless,  which  will — 
soon  perhaps — ^be  used  again,  and  he  wondered  what 
manner  of  person  had  first  lain  within  its  narrow  walls, 
man  or  woman,  pagan.  Christian,  native,  or  expatriated 
Roman  who  gave  up  life  in  this  foreign  land. 

The  road  to  the  Arena  was  dotted  with  little  houses, 
and  groups  of  women  sat  sewing  and  chatting  before 
their  open  doors;  but  as  the  traveller  passed  by  he 
noticed  especially  one  or  two  old  crones  on  whom  death 


2  I 


309 


Saintes.  311 

had  set  its  mark,  and  he  thought  of  the  old  stone 
box  which  he  had  just  seen  lying  carelessly  in  the  hot 
sun  a  few  hundred  yards  beyond. 

" Our  old  Arena,"  boasts  a  history  of  the  town,  "was 
as  large  in  area  as  that  of  Nimes,  of  Bordeaux,  or  of 
Pompeii,  and  only  yields  in  size  to  that  of  Rome." 
The  traveller  scrambled  down  its  hill  into  the  hollow  of 
the  circle,  and  sat  alone  and  looked  at  the  grass-grown 
steps  where  twenty  thousand  spectators  had  sat  and 
gazed  and  shouted  sixteen  hundred  years  ago.  A  few 
women  came  down  to  get  water  at  a  spring,  a  young 
girl  stopped  to  amuse  the  traveller  with  the  tale  that 
"every  maid  who  throws  a  pin  into  the  well  is  married 
within  the  year,"  and  then  went  on — perhaps  to  throw 
her  pin;  a  few  goats  wandered  about,  and  flies  buzzed 
and  circled  in  the  sunlight. 

In  the  peaceful  monotony  of  the  summer  afternoon 
the  traveller  looked  at  the  weeds,  the  little  trees,  the 
piles  of  fallen  stone  and  broken  arches,  and  above  them, 
in  the  distance,  the  charming  Gothic  tower  of  Saint- 
Eutrope.  He  went  across  the  fields  to  see  its  old, 
patched  church  and  the  large  and  beautiful  crypt  of 
Merovingian  days  which  is  well  worthy  of  comparison 
with  that  of  Chartres.  Then  he  wandered  to  the  river- 
side and  found  the  Corinthian  Arch  of  Germanicus 
half -hidden  in  the  grove  of  trees  where  it  was  placed 
when,  w^ith  that  mania  for  transplanting  Triumphal 
Arches  which  distinguishes  the  French,  the  city  fathers 
removed  it  from  a  commanding  position  at  the  entrance 


3 1 2  Aquitaine. 

to  the  bridge.  The  cone-shaped  tower  of  Notre-Dame, 
which  is  strong!}'  reminiscent  of  Perigueux,  next  lured 
him  on,  and  as  the  great  old  Abbey-church  of  Saintes 
is  now  a  military  store-house  surrounded  by  barracks 
instead  of  monastery  walls,  he  had  to  prove  that  he  was 
not  a  spy  before  the  courteous  sergeant  could  show  him 
even  the  exterior. 

For  a  long  time  the  traveller  had  been  skirting  the 
Cathedral  precincts,  manoeuvring,  as  it  were,  about  the 
church.  The  tower  which  he  had  seen  from  the  little 
hill-side  of  Saint-Eutrope  loomed  suggestively  across 
the  river;  but  entering  the  long,  shady  avenue  he  was 
tempted  to  sit  down  at  one  of  the  many  cafes  and  to 
watch  the  people  who  were  beginning  to  promenade 
and  flock  to  other  little  tables  for  the  tiny  glasses  of 
liqueur  that  are  the  daily  necessity  and  the  daily  treat. 

Two  well-to-do  men  in  peasant  blouses  sat  down 
near  him,  and  then  a  group  of  gentlemen,  and  the  con- 
versations on  both  sides  were  so  animated  and  interesting 
that  the  traveller  forgot  both  politeness  and  the  Cathe- 
dral in  the  pleasure  of  eavesdropping.  The  peasants 
had  spread  out  a  newspaper  and  were  discussing  the 
Pope.  One  declared  he  was  a  "  saingt,"  but  that  Saints 
should  be  in  a  monastery  or  in  heaven;  and  when  the 
other  observed  that  Christ  was  a  very  holy  man,  he  was 
promptly  reminded  that  not  Christ  but  Saint  Peter  was 
the  first  Pope. 

"We  need  a  clever  one  well- versed  in  affairs — a  real 
Pope!" 


313 


Saintes.  315 

"How  's  that?"  asked  his  friend. 

"Well  I  've  thought  a  great  deal  about  it,  and  it 's 
this  way.  What  is  a  Pope  ?  A  Pope  's  a  Vicar — the 
Vicar  of  God  on  earth.  Very  well!  The  point  is  then, 
what's  a  Vicar?  A  Vicar  is  a  sort  of  agent,  like  an 
agent  for  a  proprietor.  He  goes  around  and  collects 
what  is  due,  kicks  out  people  who  don't  pay  their  rent, 
and  does  a  great  many  things  the  proprietor  maybe 
would  n't  do  himself.  But  he  has  to  have  the  keen  eye — 
he  must  get  what  is  due! — voila  !  And  he  's  got  to  be  a 
clever  one — lazy  proprietors  make  poor  agents  and  good 
Saints — well,  you  understand  me! " 

The  conversation  continued  with  much  warmth,  the 
little  table  was  often  pounded  till  the  spoons  and  glasses 
fairly  danced;  and  after  half  an  hour  the  friends  left, 
having  concluded  that  "we  've  got  to  have  a  Church, 
but  the  Pope  can  take  care  of  himself,  since  it  is  posi- 
tive that  the  German  Cardinals  have  egged  him  on  to 
spite  France."  And  they  went  off  muttering,  "  It 's  the 
country,  the  republic  that  counts.  If  the  republic  says 
'chase  the  priests'  we'll  do  it,  if  it  says  'close  the 
churches'  we  '11  close  them — ^later  on  we  '11  unlock 
the  doors  and  ask  the  good  priests  back  and — "  But 
the  voices  had  become  faint  in  the  distance. 

In  the  meantime  the  gentlemen  had  been  discussing 
another  phase  of  the  same  question. 

"We  can  change  the  government;  if  a  republic  won't 
do,  something  else  will." 

"What  is  your  something  else,  L6on?" 


316  Aquitaine. 

"  He'll  tell  you  a  king — "  said  one. 

**  If  that 's  all  he  can  say  let 's  keep  what  we  have. 
When  I  want  to  realise  what  kings  do  for  both  Church 
and  State,  I  have  only  to  recollect  one  little  fact — that 
Louis  XIV  made  his  bastard  infants  Commendatory 
Priors." 

The  conversation  stopped  as  a  heavy  barouche 
swayed  by,  for  in  it  was  not  only  a  white-haired  old 
lady  but  the  prettiest  young  girl  one  would  care  to 
see. 

"There  's  a  sacrifice  to  your  legitimist  notions,"  said 
one,  as  the  carriage  passed,  "  since  her  father  was  n't 
allowed  to  soil  his  noble  hands  his  daughter  has  no  dot." 

"And  so  she  '11  never  marry." 

"It's  a  shame,"  cried  the  one  whom  they  called 
Leon,  "the  whole  family  starve  because  their  prince 
gambles  in  a  foreign  country  instead  of  in  France.  I 
wish  she  were  an  American — ^then  she'  d  be  as  rich  as 
Croesus." 

"Or,  failing  that,  I  wish  she  were  sour  as  vinegar  or 
prim  as  a  corkscrew — then  we  'd  be  heart-whole — " 
And  they  too  passed  up  the  street. 

The  traveller,  following  their  example,  went  his  way, 
musing  on  the  peculiar  mixture  of  intelligence  and 
provincialism  which  is  characteristic  of  the  French 
people,  and  the  French  people  of  all  kinds  and  con- 
ditions. 

He  soon  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  tall  tower  and,  ad- 
miring its  handsome  massiveness,  approached  nearer 


Saintes. 


317 


and  nearer  until  he  stood  face  to  face  with  the  muti- 
lated portal  which  forms  the  main  entrance  to  the  Ca- 
thedral.    The  tower  is  somewhat  conglomerate  in  style 


'the   tower,     .       .       .      LOOMED    SUGGESTIVELY   ACROSS 
THE    RIVER." SAINTES. 

but  tall  and  strong  and  whole  and  does  not  presage  the 
ruined  walls  which  lie  behind  it.  Houses  have  been 
built  closely  about  these  ruins,  but  from  little  alleys 


3  1 8  Aquitaine. 

and  streets  one  can  catch  glimpses  of  worn  and  ragged 
stone  sometimes  in  shapeless  mass  and  sometimes 
carved.  Far  above  the  low  roofs  and  patched  repair- 
ings  of  the  present  church  are  the  flying  buttresses  of 
the  bold  Cathedral  which  the  Huguenots  destroyed, 
the  high  gable  of  the  transept  with  its  gaunt  peak 
pointing  sky-ward,  little,  richly  carved  turrets  and 
pyramids,  and  fragments  of  walls  whose  crevasses  are 
filled  with  grass  and  delicate  pink  flowers.  Beneath 
these  great  ruins  nestles  the  poor  church  of  to-day. 

The  sun  was  low  when  the  traveller  again  reached 
the  front  portal,  and  as  he  entered  the  Angelus  began 
to  ring.  No  one  was  in  the  church,  either  to  look  or  to 
pray,  the  light  was  growing  dim,  and  a  rank,  musty 
odour  seemed  to  permeate  the  place.  He  looked  down 
the  long,  white  nave  and  counted  its  rows  of  heavy, 
rounded  pillars.  Through  the  squat  windows  of  a 
pseudo-clerestory  the  sun  cast  faint  rays  which  lighted 
the  low,  flat  vaulting.  There  was  no  beauty,  no  ma- 
jesty in  the  perspective.  Walking  about,  listening  to 
the  melancholy  echo  of  his  own  footsteps,  the  traveller 
found  little  to  admire.  The  domes  which  still  cover 
the  transepts  reminded  him  that  one  great  Bishop - 
builder  had  wished  to  reprodiice  the  cupolas  of  Angou- 
leme;  there  was  little  ornamentation;  everything  had 
been  plainly,  cheaply  restored. 

The  poorness  of  the  church  became  more  melancholy 
in  the  paling  light.  Deep  patches  of  verdigris  on  the 
white  stone  floor  looked  more  and  more  mouldy,  little 


Saintes. 


319 


lizards,  encouraged  b}^  the  stillness,  darted  in  and  out, 
and  a  noise  near  the  door  called  the  traveller's  attention 


"the   mutilated   portal  which   forms  the  main 
entrance  to  the  cathedral." saintes. 

to  a  rat  which  was  climbing  over  a  stack  of  chairs.    The 
traveller  stopped  near  the  door  to  read  the  "Livre 


320  Aquitaine. 

d'Or,"  the  tablet  which  recalls  to  man's  forgetful  mind 
the  long-departed  greatness  of  the  Cathedral .  "  N icholas 
V  declares,"  he  read,  "that  this  church  was  builded 
above  a  lake  which  covered  the  bodies  of  martyrs  of  the 
I  century."  It  is  also  claimed  that  John  XXII  learned 
the  use  of  the  Angelus,  which  he  gave  to  Christendom 
in  a  Bull  of  13 1 8,  from  a  pious  custom  of  this  Cathedral ; 
eleven  Saints  are  counted  among  its  Bishops; 
and  Pepin  and  Charlemagne  were  among  its  devoted 
patrons.  Great  name  is  followed  by  great  name,  and 
the  sacristan  coming  to  lock  the  doors  found  the  travel- 
ler still  peering  at  the  "  Livre  d'Or." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  not  be  very  sorry  that  I 
come  and  put  you  out,"  he  said  as  he  turned  one  big 
key  in  its  lock.  "I  never  read  that  tablet  any  more; 
it 's  too  sad  to  me  to  roll  off  those  great  titles  in  our  poor 
chvirch.  I  don't  even  care  to  remember  that  it  was 
once  a  Cathedral.  For  then  I  think  of  Cathedrals  that 
are  beautiful  as  this  once  was  with  things  that  people 
crowd  to  see,  whereas  two  or  three  stray  in  here.  And 
they  are  wrong  to  come,  if  you'll  excuse  me.  Mon- 
sieur, for  saying  so;  for  Saint-Pierre  of  Saintes  has 
a  nice  tower  but  it  is  a  wreck  of  a  church,  and  any 
one  who  wants  to  know  its  glories  can  learn  them 
better  in  a  book  at  home  than  in  the  musty  dampness 
here." 

There  was  a  silence  as  the  last  door  swung  to;  then, 
talking  of  more  cheerful  things,  the  sacristan  and  the 
traveller  walked  into  the  twilight  of  the  narrow  street. 


THE  HIGH  GABLE  OF  THE  TRANSEPT  WITH  ITS  GAUNT  PEAK  POINTING 
SKYWARD,       .       .              AND  FRAGMENTS  OF  WALLS  WHOSE  CREVASSES 
ARE  FILLED  WITH  GRASS." SAINTES. 


321 


Bordeaux. 


323 


BorOeauj, 


The  Cathedral  of  Saint-Andr^,  writes 
Cardinal  Donnet,  'jis  like  an  old  and 
enormous  .  .  .  tree  .  ...  whose 
branches  have  spread  in  luxuriant  vegeta- 
tion. ...  It  gives  a  whole  history  of 
the  most  fertile  period  which  architecture  has  had  since 

the    XI    century,  

from  which  it 
sprang  in  the  ten- 
tative forms  of  the 
barbarous  Roman- 
esque,  to  be 
completed  in  the 
weaker  and  too 
complicated  forms 
of  the  Renais- 
sance." After  this 
fine  appreciation, 
the  Cardinal,  los- 
ing his  critical 
sense  in  his  enthu- 
siasm, seems  to  ex- 
claim rather  than 
to  write,  "  the 
beauty  of  this  ed- 
ifice lies  in  the  va- 
riety of  all  its 
parts."  A  less 
partial  beholder  would  probably  say  that  there  is  much 


"there  is  little  ornamentation;  every- 
thing   HAS    been    plainly       .       .       .       RE- 
STORED."  SAINTES. 


\ 


324  Aquitaine. 

interest  in  the  variety  of  all  the  Cathedral's  parts,  but 
that  as  it  departs  from  true  unity  it  becomes  less 
perfect,  less  harmonious,  less  beautiful. 

This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  interior,  where 
the  nave  is  low  and  the  choir  is  lofty.  They  are  on  the 
same  axis  and  therefore  have  not  the  disjointed  appear- 
ance of  Toulouse,  but  the  general  disparity  of  their 
plans  and  of  their  proportions  has  an  unhappy  and 
marked  effect.  Because  of  its  inherent  inferiority  the 
nave  suffers  the  most  from  this  juxtaposition.  It  is  a 
large  hall,  fundamentally  Gothic  and  spanned  by  a 
great,  flat  vaulting.  No  single  Gothic  nave  is  as  broad, 
and  the  expanse  of  its  vault  is  structuralty  marvellous; 
but  its  effectiveness  is  marred  by  the  differences  and 
variations  of  its  style,  and  it  suffers  like  Saint- 
Pierre  of  Poitiers  and  many  other  old  churches  from 
the  loss  of  its  stained -glass  windows.  The  bays  have 
the  Romanesque  wall  arches  of  an  older  edifice;  above 
them  is  a  little  balcony;  higher  still,  behind  deep 
arches,  deeper  but  smaller  arches  and  small  Gothic 
windows.  This  method  of  construction,  which  has  no 
apparent  unity,  seems  a  too  obvious  and  economical 
adaptation  rather  than  a  general  re-building;  and  this 
effect  is  heightened  by  the  two  forms  of  the  vaulting, 
and  the  pillars  of  the  nave  which  are  both  round  and 
clustered.  The  large,  white  panes  of  the  windows  cast  a 
hard  light  over  these  differences  which  accentuates 
instead  of  softens  them,  and  leads  one  to  look  beyond 
where,  in  the  mellow  light  of  stained-glass,  rises  the  tall 


"   'THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  SAINT-ANDRE,'   WRITES  CARDINAL  DONNET,   '  IS  LIKE 
AN   OLD  AND   ENORMOUS        .        .        .       TREE       .       .        .       WHOSE   BRANCHES   HAVE 
SPREAD   IN  LUXURIANT  VEGETATION.  '  " BORDEAUX. 


325 


Bordeaux.  327 

choir  whose  every  line  is  svelte,  correct,  and  beautiful. 

Such  a  perspective  dwarfs  the  nave  in  spite  of  its 
vast  breadth,  and  it  is  from  the  arcades  of  the  choir 
that  this  low  hall  is  best  seen.  The  climb  to  the  upper 
gallery  is  long  and  dusty,  but  here,  from  the  triforium, 
the  architectural  effect  of  the  whole  church  is  less  dis- 
jointed. The  loftiness  of  the  choir  appears  in  all  its 
beauty.  On  the  wall  which  descends  from  the  transept 
vault  to  the  lower  vaulting  of  the  nave,  seven  orna- 
mental arches  are  placed,  and  the  abruptness  of  the  fall 
from  one  roof -level  to  another  is  much  lessened. 

The  choir,  surrounded  by  a  hroad  ambulatory  and 
chapels,  is  entirely  conventional  in  plan.  Its  stone  is 
a  soft  brown;  its  lighting,  mellow;  its  ornamentation, 
almost  confined  to  the  little  foliated  bands  of  its  capitals 
and  the  tracery  of  its  windows,  is  very  moderate;  and 
its  beauty  is  that  of  high,  narrow  arches,  of  tall  windows, 
of  lofty,  shadowy  vault,  and  of  slender  height  that  is 
perfectly  and  gracefully  proportioned. 

The  transepts  have  little  of  this  fine  harmony,  they 
are  high  but  so  shallow  as  to  seem  broad;  and  the  rose- 
windows  above  the  triforium  of  the  north  and  south 
walls,  although  effective  on  the  exterior,  have  lost  much 
of  their  beauty  because  of  the  destruction  of  the  stained 
glass,  of  which  only  fragments  remain. 

In  its  exterior  the  Cathedral,  which  was  planned  in 
regal  beauty  and  magnificence,  betrays  less  discordantly 
the  different  periods  of  its  construction.  It  is  situated 
most  happily  in  the  centre  of  a  large  square;  every 


328  Aquitaine. 

building  which  was  too  near,  even  the  historic  Palace 
of  the  Archbishops  which  formerly  leaned  against  part 
of  the  western  fagade,  has  been  torn  down;  and  a  little 
grove  of  trees,  clustered  about  the  apse,  gives  a  touch 
of  the  picturesque  to  its  architecture.  If  the  church 
had  been  completed  it  would  have  had  the  beautiful 
tower  of  Pey  Berland,  the  fine  apse,  the  transepts 
dominated  by  four  lofty  spires,  the  lower  nave  walls 
and  their  adjoining  Cloister,  and  finally,  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  Gothic  church,  a  great  western  fagade  and 
its  mighty  towers.  These  plans  have  never  been  fully 
carried  out,  and  Saint- Andr^  had  a  cruel  mischance 
when,  as  has  been  aptly  said,  it  "suffered  a  restoration " 
at  the  hands  of  Monsieur  Abadie.  The  canons  pray 
for  him  because  he  preserved  the  high  walls  of  their 
stalls  that  keep  off  draughts  and  cold;  but  Churchmen 
and  laymen  alike  who  cherish  our  inheritance  of  medi- 
aeval art  can  scarcely  forgive  him  for  the  irrevocable 
loss  of  the  Cloister.  The  stalls  w^hich  he  preserved  are 
mediocre,  but  the  Cloisters,  which  were  both  quaint  and 
picturesque,  he  unjustifiably  and  wantonly  destroyed 
to  make  way  for  a  series  of  plain,  useful  apartments  and 
sacristies. 

Other  portions  of  the  Cathedral  are  unfinished,  the 
portal  of  the  south  transept  has  empty  niches  and  spire- 
less  towers,  and  the  western  facade,  far  from  being  a 
"  cro\\Tiing  glory,"  is  scarcely  more  than  a  blank  wall. 
But  the  blank  wall  looks  merely  as  if  it  were  built  for 
the  temporary  protection  of  the  nave,  and  is  far  better 


<  X 

a  < 

^  w 

W  CO 

"  I 

«  .1 


z  z 


Bordeaux. 


331 


than  an  inharmonious  addition.  The  unfinished  tran- 
sept towers  are  not  ruined  by  uncouth  constructions, 
and  except  for  the  useful  sacristies,  the  Cathedral  is 
unspoiled.  With  a  little  imagination,  therefore,  the 
traveller  can  fancy  that  he  is  transported  to  olden  days, 
that  the  Cathedral  is  still  in  process  of  building;  and 
seeing  the  marvels  that  have  already  been  achieved,  he 
can  picture  to  himself  the  wonders  of  the  completed 
church,  its  great  portals,  its  fagade,  and  its  cluster  of 
marvellous  spires.  For  Saint-Andr6  to-day  has  an  im- 
posing Gothic  exterior,  and  in  completion  it  would  be 
among  the  most  beautiful  Cathedrals  in  France. 

First  impressions  are  always  somewhat  general,  but 
they  often  record  very  vividly  the  effect  and  the  atmos- 
phere of  an  edifice.  At  Bordeaux  the  traveller's  first 
impressions  were  those  of  extent,  of  size  with  grace, 
height,  and  beauty.  The  Romanesque  remains,  which 
are  much  less  obvious  than  in  the  interior,  do  not  dis- 
turb the  general  effect  of  Gothic  unity.  The  lower 
walls  of  the  nave  are  of  the  XI,  XII,  and  XIII  centuries 
and  have  little  distinction;  but  the  formation  of  their 
buttresses  is  most  curious.  Having  no  side-aisles  or 
chapels  there  are  no  lower  roofs  on  which  the  flying 
buttresses  can  rest,  and  special  supports  had  to  be  con- 
structed for  them.  These  are  a  series  of  angular  pillars 
ending  in  little,  ornamented  turrets,  which  stand  apart 
from  the  church  like  a  row  of  grenadiers  on  guard ;  and 
against  them  lean  the  buttresses,  decorated  as  those  of 
the  apse,  but  small  and  stiff  in  comparison. 


332  Aquitaine. 

Behind  the  nave  rise  the  more  beautiful  portions  of 
the  Cathedral,  the  constructions  of  the  XIV  and  XV 
centuries.  First  the  tall,  tower-flanked  walls  of  the 
transepts,  then  the  noble  apse  with  its  great,  out- 
stretched lines  of  flying  buttresses,  and  finally,  de- 
tached from  the  building  itself  and  framed  in  thick, 
green  foliage,  the  fine  tower  of  Pey  Berland. 

As  the  door  of  the  fagade  wall  is  but  an  angular,  prac- 
tical aperture,  Saint-Andre  has  only  three  entrances 
worthy  of  the  name, — the  "  royal  portal  "of  the  northern 
wall  and  the  two  single  portals  of  the  transepts.  The 
door  of  the  south  transept  is  incomplete,  and  it  is  the 
unused  "  royal  portal "  and  the  doorway  of  the  northern 
transept  which  are  interesting  both  from  their  own  in- 
trinsic merit  and  in  comparison  one  with  the  other.  They 
stand  almost  side  by  side;  their  carvings  represent  the 
same  subjects ;  both  have  Angels  in  canopies  and  Saints 
in  niches ;  and  both  treat  of  the  Resurrection  and  of  the 
Judgment  of  the  Dead.  Both  are  Gothic;  but  one  is  of 
the  XII  and  the  other  of  the  XIV  century,  and  the  study 
of  the  two  treatments,  of  the  developments,  of  the  ad- 
vance, and  the  elaboration  of  the  art,  is  an  illuminating 
study  to  the  student  of  comparative  architecture. 

To  those  of  historic  mind  Saint- Andre  is  no  less  inter- 
esting, for  it  is  full  of  the  memories  of  the  past,  and  it 
seems  as  if  the  spirits  of  great  personages  are  in  every 
changing  shadow  and  fill  the  church  with  an  ever- 
moving  procession  of  ghostly  figures.  One  sees  a  baby 
carried  in  state  to  the  baotismal  font  and  christened 


ITS  STONE  IS  A  SOFT  BROWN;  ITS  LIGHTING,  MELLOW;  AND  ITS  BEAUTY   IS 

THAT       ...       OF    SLENDER    HEIGHT    THAT    IS    PERFECTLY    AND 

GRACEFULLY  PROPORTIONED." BORDEAUX. 


333 


Bordeaux.  335 

"Richard,"  a  very  French  baby  who  was  later  King  of 
England;  one  hears  the  approach  of  men  with  clanking 
swords  and  ladies  in  silken  skirts, — Francis  I,  beruffed 
and  dehonnaire,  comes  gaily  in  to  Mass,  Charles  IX  who 
comes  more  slowly,  the  feeble  Louis  XIII,  and  the  Louis 
of  the  High  Heels, — all  pass  by.  A  fair,  rich  lady, 
Eleanor  of  Aquitaine,  comes  to  marriage  with  the 
monkish  King  of  France,  and  later  comes  more  merrily 
to  wed  Henry,  King  of  England;  sad  little  Madame 
Elisabeth,  a  very  different  bride,  takes  to  husband  the 
dark  and  bigoted  King  of  Spain;  here  Anne  of  Austria 
comes  with  wondrous  pomp  to  marry  Louis  XIII. 
Foreign  potentates  also  come  to  visit  and  to  pray  In 
this  Cathedral  in  1373  the  Black  Prince  receives  the 
oath  of  fealty  of  his  father's  French  subjects;  further 
down  the  years  Charles  V,  hurrying  across  France  to 
chastise  the  rebels  of  Ghent,  is  received  as  befits  his 
power  and  orthodoxy;  and  in  1701  a  feebler  but  no  less 
faithful  King  of  Spain,  detained  in  Bordeaux  by  storms 
and  rains,  comes  every  day  to  Mass. 

Words  are  cold;  but  he  who  holds  the  magic  wand  of 
history  can  make  these  illustrious  dead  return  in  all  the 
warmth  of  life  and  action,  in  all  the  gorgeous  apparel 
of  their  rank;  he  can  evoke  the  Archbishops  in  silk  and 
lace  and  golden  thread,  the  soft-stepping  attendant 
priests,  the  censers  swung  low,  and  the  radiance  of  the 
lighted  Altar.  He  also  may  picture  the  quaint  and 
time-honoured  ceremonials  of  the  Chapter,  and  the 
Masses  on  holy-days  when  the  people  crowded  into  the 


33' 


Aquitaine. 


church;  an^  the  times,  long  past,  when  the  organs  were 
adorned  with  ' '  two  great  faces  of  men  that  had  big  eyes 
which  could  be  made  to  move,  two  long,  grizzly  beards, 
and  long,   white  tee^h.     .     .     .     The  organist  could 

make  them     .     . 
to  seem   as    if   they 
were    chewing    and 
also      moved     their 
eyes  and 

beards,  the  which 
amused  the  people 
and  disturbed  their 
devotion."  On  the 
Feast  of  the  Holy 
Trinity  there  was 
still  another  diver- 
sion. During  the 
High  ]\Iass  men  went 
up  to  the  roofs,  and 
in  pious  memor}'  of 
the  descent  of  the 
tongues  of  fire,  let 
drop  through  the  air- 
holes into  the  body  of 
the  church  numbers 
of  little  cakes,  and  when  the  people  began  to  pick 
them  up  th3  men  threw  water  on  them.  These 
customs  and  antics  of  the  organ-heads  were  ver}^ 
popular;  but  as  they  were  exceedingly  conducive  to 


.     "THE   TRANSEPT,   DOMINATED   BY 
LOFTY   SPIRES." BORDEAUX. 


Bordeaux. 


337 


indecorum,  the  Canons  forbade  them;  and  together 
with  many  churchly  pranks,  which  were  once  sanc- 
tioned in  spite  of  their  grotesque  vulgarity,  they  have 
passed  out  of  practice  and  almost  out  of  memory. 

Such  .visions  of  old  conceits  and  wondrous  pageants 
are  for  him  who  loves  the  past;  but  besides  these  visions 


ONE  OF  THE       ANGULAR   PILLARS   ENDING   IN   LITTLE,   ORNAMENTED   TURRETS, 
WHICH   STAND   APART  FROM  THE   CHURCH   LIKE   A   ROW  OF  GRENADIERS 
ON   GUARD."— BORDEAUX. 

there  are  more  substantial  reminders  for  the  careless 
traveller, — the  statues  of  Edward  I  and  Eleanor  of 
Castile  which  stand  in  the  niches  of  the  * '  royal  portal ' ' ; 
the  portal  of  the  north  transept  where  the  magnificent 
Clement  V  stands  against  the  pier  that  divides  the  door- 
way, surrounded,  as  it  were,  by  the  six  Cardinals  of  the 


338  Aquitaine. 

lateral  niches;  and  the  tower  which  recalls  the  great  and 
holy  Pey  Berland.  No  greater  contrast  can  exist  than 
the  lives  of  these  two  prelates,  both  Archbishops  of 
Bordeaux,  Pey  Berland  who  was  justly  given  the  title  of 
"Blessed,"  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spiritual  honours 
the  Church  bestows,  and  Bertrand  de  Goth  who  was 
crowned  w^ith  the  greatest  glors'  of  the  Church  Militant. 

Bertrand  de  Goth,  whether  poor  peasant  or  Gascon 
noble,  was  filled  with  all  the  unbridled  ambition  of  his 
age.  The  most  ardent  of  apologists  can  hardly  claim 
that  he  added  a  jot  or  tittle  to  the  spiritual  advance- 
ment of  the  Church,  but  he  was  an  ardent  patron  of 
arts  and  letters,  and  never  forgot  the  Sees  of  which  he 
had  been  a  prelate.  His  visits  to  Abbeys  are  said  to 
have  been  virtual  pillages,  but  some  of  his  booty  was 
well  spent,  for  Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges  owes 
much  of  the  beauty  of  her  Cathedral  and  Cloister 
to  his  generosity,  and  it  was  he  w^ho  planned  the  great 
choir  of  Bordeaux  and  contributed  most  lavishly  to  its 
realisation. 

Pey  Berland,  who  was  no  less  interested  in  the  build- 
ing of  the  Cathedral,  was  a  man  of  very  different  mould. 
His  parents  were  the  poorest  of  the  land,  they  desired 
their  only  son  to  become  and  to  remain  a  shepherd; 
and  when  they  discovered  that  the  boy,  irresistibly  led 
by  a  strong,  health}-  hunger  for  knowledge,  had  secretly 
learned  to  read  and  write  and  longed  to  learn  still  more, 
they  consented  very  reluctanth-  to  give  up  their  ambi- 
tions for  his  future  and  to  send  him  with  what  scantv 


THE  NOBLE  APSE  WITH  ITS  GREAT,  OUTSTRETCHED  LINES    OF    FLYING 
BUTTRESSES." BORDEAUX. 


339 


Bordeaux. 


341 


means  they  had  to  the  city  schools.  "The  hfe  of  this 
great  pontiff,"  writes  the  Canon  de  Laborie,  his  biogra- 
pher, "shows  how  a  .  .  .  peasant,  without  credit 
and  without  fortune,  bom  in  the  midst  of  an  arid  and 
almost  uninhabited  land,  living  .  .  .  the  humble 
life  of  the  shepherd,  became  one  of  the  most  holy  and 
learned  men  of  his  century."  As  a  priest  the  good 
Berland  travelled  to  Italy  in  the  train  of  Cardinal  Fran- 
cois Hugocion,  and  there  he  is  said  to  have  conceived  a 
great  admiration  for  the  campanili  of  the  land.  Elected 
to  the  Chapter  of  the  Cathedral  of  Bordeaux  and  later 
to  the  Archbishopric,  he  desired  to  erect  one  of  these 
imposing  bell-towers.  Aquitaine  was  at  this  time 
harassed  by  the  Hundred  Years'  War,  and  poverty  was 
so  universal  that  the  charitable  were  besieged  by  the  in- 
digent begging  for  bread.  A  tradition  tells  us  that  the 
Archbishop  saw  in  these  hungry  hordes  an  army  of 
workmen  who  could  build  his  tower,  and  thereby  give 
comfort  to  their  families  and  glory  to  the  Church  in 
Bordeaux. 

"See,"  he  said,  "these many  stones  which  have  been 
brought  for  you;  shape  them  and  they  will  mount  to- 
wards God  bearing  witness  to  your  gratitude,"  and  in 
1440  he  himself  placed  the  first  stone  a  little  beyond  the 
axis  of  the  apse.  More  critical  history  contends  that 
the  tower,  which  all  agree  was  built  at  this  period,  had 
older  foundations  or  the  remains  of  an  earlier  tower; 
it  is  also  said  that  Pey  Berland  did  not  live  to  complete 
his  work;   and  that  it  has  small  resemblance  to  an 


342  Aquitaine. 

Italian  campanile  and  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  towers 
of  Saint-Michel  and  to  the  native  "  lanterns  of  the  dead  " 
whose  sepulchral  chambers  were  surmounted  by  a  high 
cone,  by  a  spire,  or  by  turreted  stories.  But  whether 
the  old  tales  which  linger  are  legendary  or  true,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  Pey  Berland  built  his  brown  tower  much  as  it 
stands  to-da^^  and  it  is  fitting  that  so  holy  a  man  should 
be  kept  in  continual  memory-  by  so  beautiful  a  work. 

The  best  parts  of  the  Cathedral  date  from  the  days 
of  Clement  V  and  of  the  saintly  Archbishop;  but  its 
traditions,  like  those  of  all  the  early  Sees  of  France,  are 
founded  in  an  antiquity  which,  if  not  historically  ad- 
missible, is  very  interesting  and  often  very  beautiful. 
The  tradition  of  Saint-Andre's  foundation  takes  one 
back  to  the  scenes  of  the  Gospel,  to  the  gentle  Christ 
Who  took  a  child  in  His  arms  and  said,  "Of  such  is  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven."  This  child  is  believed  to  have 
been  Martial,  who  in  his  maturity  became  a  follower 
of  the  Christ  Who  had  blessed  him,  a  disciple  of  Saint 
Peter,  and  "through  the  consecration  of  the  Prince  of 
Apostles,"  the  first  Bishop  of  Bordeaux,  and  the  Apostle 
of  Aquitaine. 

Martial,  says  ecclesiastical  history,  came  into  this 
Roman  province,  and  making  a  few  himible  converts 
near  the  city  of  Burdigala,  outside  its  precincts  built  an 
orator^''  in  memory"  of  Saint  Stephen  which  in  later  times 
became  the  Church  of  Saint-Seurin.  Penetrating  with- 
in the  city  he  made  new  conversions  and  formed  a  second 
congregation  which  he  wished  to  dedicate  to  his  master. 


THE   PORTAL       .        .        .       WHERE   THE   MAGNIFICENT   CLEMENT  V.    STANDS 
AGAINST  THE   PIER    THAT  DIVIDES    THE    DOORWAY,    SURROUNDED, 
AS   IT  WERE,   BY  THE   SIX  CARDINALS  OF  THE  LATERAL 
NICHES." BORDEAUX. 


343 


Bordeaux.  345 

Saint  Peter.  But  being  informed  by  a  vision  of  the 
crucifixion  of  Saint  Andrew  at  Patras  in  Achaia,  he  was 
constrained  to  erect  his  church  in  memory  of  the  new 
martyr. 

This  church,  which  Innocent  VIII  declares  to  have 
been  the  first  to  be  placed  under  the  vocable  of  Saint 
Andrew,  grew  to  many  honours.  It  acquired  the  right 
of  coinage,  it  gave  Bishops,  Archbishops,  and  Cardinals 
to  the  Church,  two  Popes — Boniface  IX  and  Clement  V 
came  from  its  midst,  and  it  was — or  became — the 
Cathedral  of  Bordeaux.  But,  as  one  of  the  old  Canons 
quaintly  wrote  in  the  XVIII  century,  its  pre-eminence 
"is  not  exempt  from  the  clouds  which  sometimes  pass 
before  the  most  brilliant  sun  of  truth";  and  not  only 
have  its  greatest  honours  been  hotly  disputed  in  the 
past,  but  in  our  own  day,  when  so  many  old  customs, 
privileges,  and  precedences  have  been  forgotten  or  have 
lost  their  meaning,  learned  theologians  still  try  to  solve 
these  problems  with  as  much  interest  as  earlier  doctors 
discussed  the  number  of  angels  who  could  stand  on  the 
point  of  a  sword. 

For  centuries  the  Archbishop  of  Bordeaux  and  the 
Archbishop  of  Bourges  disputed  the  title  of  "Primate 
of  Aquitaine,"  each  claimed  it  with  more  or  less  reason 
and  authority,  and  each  claims  it  to  this  day.  But  a 
sorer  point  was  the  claim  of  another  church  that  it  was 
the  earliest  Cathedral  of  Bordeaux;  and  this  was  the 
Church  of  Saint-Seurin,  admittedly  a  foundation  of 
Saint  Martial  and  admittedly  his  first  foundation.     As 


346  Aquitaine. 

in  the  case  of  the  primacy  there  is  much  authority  on 
both  sides;  and  ahhough  the  Chapter  of  Saint-Seurin 
has  ceased  to  exist,  priests  and  people  continue  to  con- 
tend, as  it  contended,  that  until  813  the  Collegiate 
Church  of  Saint-Seurin  was  the  Bishop's  church.  There 
are  other  priests  and  other  people  who  argue  as  warmh- 
that  Saint- Andre  was  a  Cathedral  from  its  ver\'  begin- 
ning. It  is  seldom  the  province  of  the  stranger  to  decide 
where  native  doctois  disagree,  but  it  is  interesting  to 
note  the  jealousies  which  always  animated  the  Chapters 
of  the  two  churches  and  the  smouldering  fires  of  rivalr\' 
which  often  flamed  high  when  a  new  prelate  succeeded 
in  Bordeaux. 

Whether  Cathedral  or  Collegiate,  Saint-Seurin  is  a 
church  of  historic,  architectural,  and  religious  import- 
ance, it  was  long  noted  for  the  pomp  of  its  ceremonies, 
the  brilliance  of  its  sermons,  and  the  great  beauty  of  its 
music.  It  has  venerable  relics  and  illustrious  names, 
and  was  the  church  which  every  Archbishop  was  obliged 
to  enter  before  he  went  to  Saint- Andre;  here  he  heard 
Mass,  and  here  knelt  and  swore  to  respect  the  Chapter's 
rights.  In  1380  his  Grandeur,  Raymond  de  Roqueis, 
was  called  to  account  by  the  Canons  of  the  old  church. 
"It  is  of  immemorial  usage  that  the  ver}' reverend 
fathers.  Archbishops  of  Bordeaux,  after  having  been 
consecrated  outside  the  city  should  be  enthroned  in 
pontifical  vestment  in  the  Church  of  Saint-Seurin;  to 
this  effect  they  sit  upon  a  throne  which  .  .  .  is  m 
this  church,  destined  for  this  use.     .     .     .     You  how- 


PEY    BERLAND    BUILT    HIS    BROWN    TOWER    MUCH    AS    IT    STANDS 
TO-DAY." BORDEAUX. 


347 


Bordeaux. 


349 


ever  have  judged  it  apropos  to  ignore  these  formali- 
ties. .  .  .  You  have  walked  about  the  city,  your 
Cross  borne  before  you,  and  you  gave  benediction  to 
the  people.  .  .  . 
In  consequence  we 
declare  to  you  that 
we  shall  appeal  to 
the  Sovereign  Pon- 
tiff." Another  ill- 
advised  prelate, 
arriving  in  Bor- 
deaux for  the  first 
time,  ventured  to 
retire  to  his  private 
apartments  and  to 
send  word  to  the 
Canons  of  Saint- 
Seurin  that  he 
wouldreceive  them 
after  he  had  seen 
the  Chapter  of  the 
Cathedral.  He  and 
all  those  of  like 
mind  were  brought 
to  reason  and  the 
observance  of  an- 
cient usages  with  an  energy  worthy  of  a  more  exalted 
cause. 

But  these  old  events  indicate  power  rather  than 


'"THE   BEAUTIFUL  THRONE   WHICH   STANDS  IN 
THE   choir"   of   SAINT-SEURIN. BORDEAUX. 


350  Aquitaine. 

any  declared  rank.  The  beautiful  throne  which  stands 
in  the  choir  is  of  the  XV  centur}^  and  probably  replaced 
one  more  ancient.  Exclusive  honours,  primatial  rights, 
are  now  questions  of  historic  interest  rather  than  of 
bitter  heartburnings;  spirituality  is  replacing  religious 
rank  as  a  churchly  ideal,  and  to-day  it  is  not  the  anti- 
quity of  Saint-Andre's  See,  not  the  primacy  of  its  church, 
not  the  glory  of  the  two  Popes  which  it  gave  to  Christen- 
dom, nor  its  titles,  nor  its  kingly  visitors,  which  are  its 
highest  claim  to  pre-eminence,  but  rather  the  memor>^ 
of  its  holy  Archbishop,  Pey  Berland,  "the  Blessed," 
and  the  very  present  glory  of  its  Cathedral-church. 

The  department  of  w^hich  Agen  is  the  capi- 
^  tal  is  believed  by  at  least   one  eminent 

geologist  to  have  been  the  first  home  of 
primitive  man.  Whether  this  be  accepted 
or  not,  from  pre-historic  times  until  the  days  of  its  defini- 
tive union  with  France,  this  bit  of  country-  has  seen  the 
coming  and  going  of  many  peoples;  and  from  the  age  of 
iron  to  our  own  times,  each  has  left  some  trace  which 
will  delight  the  archaeologist  who  can  wander  along  the 
high-roads,  past  caves  that  were  the  habitations  of 
early  man  through  ancient  hamlets  and  villages  to  mod- 
ernised towns  as  ancient  as  they.  In  the  museums,  he 
will  see  instruments  of  the  Bronze  Age,  bits  of  car\'ed 
bone,  gods  of  various  peoples,  and  coins  of  the  conquer- 
ing Romans.  Down  in  the  valley  of  the  Bayes,  he  will 
find  one  of  the  Roman  villas,  a  beautif  til  ruin  in  marble 


IN       THE   COLLEGIATE   CHURCH    OF   SAINT-SEURIN.    BORDEAUX. 


351 


Agen.  353 

and  mosaic,  typical  of  the  sumptuous  life  of  the  later 
era;  buildings  whose  foundations  are  old  Roman  walls; 
curious  little  churches  of  the  early  Christian  times, 
such  as  that  of  Aubiac,  whose  choir  and  transepts  are 
shaped  as  a  clover-leaf;  ruins  of  a  more  advanced  period, 
as  the  episcopal  Manor  of  Bazens;  at  Casteljaloux,  grim 
subterranean  cells  which  were  used  by  the  all-powerful 
Templars;  a  king's  castle  at  Nerac,  and  those  of  nobles 
in  almost  ever}^  town.  There  are  also  memories  of 
those  people,  whom,  for  lack  of  a  better  word,  we  call 
"aborigines,"  memories  of  Celts  and  Visigoths  and 
Franks;  and  above  all,  memories  of  their  successors,  and 
the  infinite  complications  of  feudal  society. 

Such  is  the  country  about  Agen,  but  such  is  not  Agen 
itself.  In  spite  of  a  history  which,  until  modem  times, 
has  never  ceased  to  be  interesting,  the  city  is  neither 
quaint  nor  beautiful,  nor  has  it  any  monument  worthy 
of  its  great  past. 

Agen  took  part  in  all  of  the  man}^  struggles,  religious 
and  political,  that  have  convulsed  Gascony  from  the 
time  of  Vercingetorix  to  the  Revolution.  In  its  pagan- 
ism, it  killed  Saint-Caprais,  its  first  Bishop;  and,  obed- 
ient to  the  edict  of  Diocletian,  burned  alive  its  young 
"patron  saint."  Converted,  it  suffered  from  the  heret 
ical  Visigoths,  and  received  the  astutely  orthodox 
Clovis  with  acclaim.  Seven  hundred  years  later  it  had 
so  fallen  from  grace  that  its  Bishop-Count  called  to  his 
aid  that  terrible  General  of  the  Church,  Simon  de  Mont- 
fort.     The  inquisition  followed  in  his  train;  and  a  priest 


354 


Aquitaine. 


aided  by  two  or  three  of  the  native  flock,  tracked  down 
heretics  with  so  keen  a  scent  that  in  one  day  of  1289, 
eighty  of  these  persons  were  burned  ahve.  This 
method  of  curbing  a  too  great  independence  of  thought 
became  a  favourite  one  with  the  Agennais.     A  pile  of 


"a  solid,  rounded  structure                     with  five  little  apses  nest- 
ling ABOUT  IT  AS  chicks  AROUND  THE  MOTHER-HEN." AGEN. 

fagots  was  built  on  the  grassy  bank  of  the  Garonne, 
and  before  their  religious  enthusiasm  abated,  one  Doc- 
tor Sabatier  had  himself  witnessed  the  agonising  death 
of  three  hundred  persons.  What  tortures  de  Montfort, 
the  native  Agennais,  and  the  inquisition  left  untried. 


Agen.  '^^^ 

were  introduced  by  the  fanatic  Montluc;  and  even  in 
Louis  XIII's  time  the  Huguenots  came  under  chastise- 
ment. They  received  their  final  blow  when  his  son 
revoked  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  passed  out  of  the 
history  of  the  little  Gascon  city.  t 

During  these  many  years  of  suffering,  Agen  had  been 
the  prize  first  of  one  king,  then  of  another;  an  involun- 
tary subject  of  those  who  cared  but  little  for  her  wel- 
fare. It  is  not  surprising  then,  that  between  political 
battles  and  religious  terrors,  it  should  have  fewer  mon- 
uments than  memories  of  a  not  over  joyous  past. 

The  city's  first  Cathedral,  Saint-Etienne,  was  utterly 
destroyed  in  the  year  of  the  Terror,  a  market  hall 
was  built  on  its  site,  and  its  consecrated  stones  were 
used  in  the  construction  of  a  municipal  theatre.  In 
spite  of  these  melancholy  happenings  the  Bishopric  was 
not  suppressed,  and  in  1803,  there  being  no  energy  nor 
money  for  the  erection  of  a  new  Cathedral,  the  old 
church  of  Saint-Caprais  was  raised  to  episcopal  honour. 

Saint-Caprais  has  few  of  the  architectural  attributes 
which  seem  inherent  to  its  rank.  It  has  neither  size, 
dignity,  nor  grandeur,  and  is  as  one  of  its  townsmen 
truly  remarked,  "a  poor  little  Cathedral."  Its  wall 
lines  are  straight  and  angular,  its  tower  bare,  the  nave 
short  and  broad;  and  only  the  old  apse  and  the  little 
transepts  of  the  XIII  century  have  the  heavy  grace  of 
the  Romanesque,  the  virility  of  a  true  style. 

Bezard's  modem  mural  paintings  in  the  interior,  its 
mixture  of  styles,  and  unsuited  proportions  have  taken 


35^  Aquitaine. 

from  the  choir  all  its  original  quaintness  and  harmony. 
The  rest  of  the  interior  seems  to  have  been  added  in  a 
purely  utilitarian  moment  by  competent  masons.  It 
is  only  the  apse  which  stands  as  its  early  architects  had 
planned,  a  solid,  rounded  structure  in  the  true  old 
Romanesque,  with  five  little  apses  nestling  about  it  as 
chicks  around  the  mother  hen.  Form,  windows,  col- 
umns,— all  harmonise  in  style;  and  although  it  is  not  a 
great  architectural  conception,  it  is  pleasing  to  find 
one  as  good  in  a  church  otherwise  so  unwonhy  the 
title  of  Cathedral. 

Down  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  on  a  little 

branch  railroad  whose  trains   average   a 

mile  in  five  or  six  minutes,  lies  the  ancient 

town  of  Bazas.     It  is  said  to  have  been 

noted,  even  in  the  cruel  age  of  the  religious  wars,  for  the 

energ^^  and  fury  of  its  inhabitants,-  and  their  mutual 

and  horrible  excesses.     But  in  modem  times,  lethargy 

has  fallen  on  the  place;  and  it  seems  a  town  of  hobbling 

old  men  and  little  children,  of  deserted  caf^  and  houses 

whose  shutters  are  eternally  bowed. 

For  a  town  so  small  and  commonplace,  the  Cathedral 
of  Saint-Jean-Baptiste  is  one  of  surprising  size  and  rich- 
ness. Instead  of  the  stout  compactness  of  Saint-Lizier 
which  would  be  appropriate  to  a  small  place,  or  the  angu- 
lar restoration  which  usually  followed  Huguenot  van- 
dalism, the  Cathedral  of  Bazas  is  an  imposing  building 
of  ample  proportions,  which  has  largely  retained  its 
original  style,  the  Gothic. 


THESE  PORTALS 


ARE  VERY  GRACEFUL,   VERY  ORNATE,   AND  VERY 
BEAUTIFUL." BAZAS. 


357 


Bazas. 


359 


Yet  even  in  this  country  of  Norman  influences,  this 
style  could  not  exist  without  the  innovations  and 
vagaries  of  the  southern  mind.  Side  by  side  with 
the  usual  conventionalities  there  are  those  hazardous 
originalities  that  destroy  purity  of  style  and  add  a 
barbarism,  an  unhappy  eccentricity,  or  even  a  note 
of  insincerity.  At  Bazas,  the  builders  have  used  the 
graceful  flying  buttress  of  the  north  with  much  more 
skill  and  freedom  than  we  find  at  Lectoure.  But  with 
less  caution  appeared  a  too  jocular,  a  too  gasconnad- 
ing  temerity;  and  two  buttresses,  airily  ornamented, 
not  only  fulfill  their  normal  function,  but  support  a 
piece  of  the  front  wall  which  would  otherwise  rise  de- 
tached and  meaningless,  unless,  in  turn,  it  were  built 
to  support  the  central  rose.  Above  this  window  again, 
rises  a  bit  of  construction  which  deserves  only  to  be 
torn  down,  as  it  forms  no  component  part  of  the 
whole.  It  is  so  obviously  of  that  irresponsible  archi- 
tectural age,  the  XVII  century,  that  the  careful  men 
who  succeeded  to  the  task  of  finishing  this  large 
church,  must  be  absolved  from  this,  its  crowning 
defect. 

The  sides  of  the  Cathedral  are  ornamented  with  a 
double  row  of  gargoyles;  and  here  the  modification  of 
the  northern  style — the  acclimation  of  the  animal,  as  it 
were,  is  delightful.  For  at  Paris,  at  Chartres,  or  where 
you  will  in  the  Isle  de  France,  the  gargoyle  is  comfort- 
ably perched  in  his  devilish  malignity.  Here  he  is 
truly  Gascon,  stretching  so  far  beyond  the  church  wall 


360  Aquitaine. 

that  his  claws  clutch  the  stone  desperately,  leaning  far 
over  the  street  as  if  ready  for  the  spring,  grinning  in  a 
significant,  personal  way,  which,  for  all  he  is  of  stone, 
is  quite  terrifying.  He  does  not  look  down  on  any 
magnificence  of  churchly  decoration,  for  the  lateral 
portions  of  Saint- Jean  are  unpretentious;  but  if  he 
were  as  truly  living  as  he  seems  to  be,  he  could  see  the 
tower  which  is  built  beyond  the  walls.  Its  hundred 
and  twenty-five  feet  of  height  are  not  remarkable  in  a 
country  which  aspired  to  towers  so  lofty  that  they 
sometimes  fell  from  overweight,  nor  is  it  wonderfully 
graceful  in  this  land  of  beautiful  spires.  It  is  of  their 
kind,  strong  and  plain  until  a  safe  height  is  reached,  and 
then  defenceless,  ornamented,  and  tapering  to  a  long 
thin  point. 

It  is  sad  that  the  portals  could  not  have  been  built 
at  some  such  height  of  safety.  For  being  filled  with 
statues,  after  the  northern  plan,  these  doors  excited  the 
special  fury  of  the  Huguenots  who  were  inspired  by  the 
verse  of  their  new  Bible-lore,  "Thou  shalt  not  make 
unto  thee  any  graven  image. ' '  Perhaps  in  the  destruction 
of  the  multitudes  of  statues  their  fervour  was  satiated, 
perhaps  they  were  interrupted,  for  they  spared  the  tym- 
panum of  each  door,  and  we  have  here,  although  much 
worn  and  broken  by  time,  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Judgment  of  the  Dead,  appropriate  scenes  from  the 
life  of  the  patron  Saint,  carvings  of  the  Virgin's  life, 
and  Bible  stories;  and  on  the  pier  which  divides  the 
central  doorway,  Saint- John  still  stands.     As  the  forms 


THE    INTERIOR,    IN    SPITE    OF    A    SIZE    WHICH    IS   ALMOST   VAST,    LACKS 
NOBILITY." BAZAS. 


361 


Bazas. 


3'<53 


and  the  designings  of  the  portals  are  very  well  pre- 
served, much  of  their  richness  remains;  and  although 
these  portals  cannot  compare  with  the  astounding 
glory  of  Reims  or 
Paris,  they  are  ver}^ 
graceful,  very  or- 
nate, and  very 
beautiful. 

The  interior,  in 
spite  of  a  size 
which  is  almost 
vast,  lacks  nobility, 
inspiration,  almost 
sincerity.  A  con- 
scientious mason, 
ambitious  and  well- 
taught,  might  have 
planned  this  long, 
high  nave,  with 
its  rounded  blind 
arcade  and  high 
clerestory.  He 
might,  too,  have 
planned  from  some 
tradition  he  had  learned  the  lower,  simple  side- 
aisles,  and  the  choir  with  its  ambulatory  and  seven 
surrounding  chapels.  He  even  might  have  designed 
the  plain  pillars  of  the  nave,  and  the  fluted  col- 
umns   which    stand    about    the    altar.        Everything 


THE    LOWER,    SIMPLE    SIDE-AISLE.     — BAZAS. 


364  Aquitaine. 

within  this  church  is  carefully  thought  out,  everything 
is  mathematically  complete.  One  stands  astounded  at 
its  height,  amazed  at  its  great  length;  but  being  so 
high,  it  should  uplift,  being  so  amply  large,  it  should  be 
overpowering  in  majesty.  That  it  fails  in  both  these 
tests  proves  that  here  the  builders  were  but  feeble  copy- 
ists and  imitators,  that  they  could  admire  and  study, 
but  could  not  conceive  the  greater  glories  of  pure 
Gothic. 


INDEX 


Abbey-church  of  Saint-Pierre,  I. 
247. 

Abbey-church,  The,  II.  156,  157. 

Abbey  of  Saint-Claude,  Benedic- 
tine, I.  278. 

Abbeys,  Benedictine,  II.  98,  276, 
280,  281,  282. 

Abelard,  II.  138. 

Abuses  of  Monastic  Orders,  I.  279. 

"  Acts  of  Saint  Symphorien,"  I.  325, 
326. 

Adams,  Mrs.  John,  I.  57,  58. 

Addison,  C.  G.,  I.  231. 

Adrets,  Baron  des,  I.  173,  201. 

Agde,  Cathedral  of,  I.  58. 

Agen,  II.  345-  354,  355- 

Agen,  Cathedral  of,  II.  355. 

Agen,  Historical  importance  of,  II. 
350.  351. 

Albi,  Cathedral  of,  I.   58. 

d'Albret,  Jeanne,  II.  293,  295. 

Alet,  Notre-Dame  of,  I.  58. 

Alexander  III,  Pope,  I.  384. 

Alexander  IV,  Pope,  I.  233. 

Alps,  Savoyard,  I.  95,  96,  103,  108, 
116. 

Altar  railing,  Cathedral  of  Embrun, 

I-  150.  153- 
Amiens,  Cathedral  of,  I.  58,  62. 
Angelas,  The,  II.  320. 
Angouleme,  II.  205,  206,  207,  211, 

212,  230. 
Angouleme,  Ancient  customs  of,  II. 

211,  212,  213,  214. 
Angouleme,  Bishops  of,  I.   13;  II. 

207,  208,  212,  213,  214,  225. 
Angouleme,  Cathedral  of,  I.  73,  74; 

II.  214,  217,  2i8,  219,  220,  223, 

224,  230. 
Angouleme,   Fafade    of    Cathedral 

of,  II.  2  18,  219,  220. 
Angoumois,  The,  I.,  22. 
Annecy,  I.  115,  123,  127. 
Annecy,  Bishop  of,  I.  122,  124,  127, 

263. 


Annecy,  Cathedral  of,   I.   83,   117 

1 18,  122,  124. 
Apostle  of  Aquitaine,  II.  59,  187. 
Apostolic  Ordinance  abolishing  the 

Order   of    Knights  Templars,  I. 

236. 
Aquitaine,  I.  3,  14,  22,  25,  26,  61, 

74;  II.   81,  82,  85,  86,  87,  90,  95, 

97,  98,  105,  117,  130. 
Architecture,  Oriental  influence  in, 

I.  205,  342,  345,  346. 
Aubiac,  II.  353. 
d'Aubigne,  II.  272,  273,  297. 
Augusta  Tricastinorum,  I.  178,  179, 

180. 
Augustodunum,  I.  322,  331,  333. 
Autun,  I.  322,  331,  332,  3SS. 
Autun,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66,  70,  336, 

341.  342,  345.  346,  350. 
Auvergne,   I.   3,  14,  25,  26,  29,  61, 

66,  69,  369;  II.   I,  37,  41,  58. 


B 


Baptistery,  Le  Puy,  II.  42,  45. 
Baptistery  of  Saint-Jean,  Poitiers, 

II.  234. 
Basilica,  The,  I.  87,  88,  91. 
Batie,  Fort  de  la,  I.  215. 
Bazas,  II.  356. 
Bazas,   Cathedral  of,  II.   356,  359, 

360,  363,  364. 
Beaumont,  I.  62. 
Beauvoir,  Castle  of,  I.  42. 
Bell,  Gertrude,  I.  38,  41. 
Belley,  I.  259,  260,  263,  264. 
Belley,  Bishops  of,  I.  259,  260,  263. 
Belley,  Cathedral  of,   I.    264,   265, 

266. 
Benedictine   Abbeys,    II.    98,    276, 

279,  280,  281,  282. 
Benedictines,  The,  I.  276,  279,  280, 

281,  282,  284,  311;  II.  138,  141, 

145,  265,  266,  267,  270,  271,  273. 
Berland,    Pey,    II.    328,    332,    338, 

341,  342,  35°- 


36: 


366 


Index 


Bernard,  Saint,  I.  21,  91,  124,  279; 

II.  138. 
Bertrand  de  Goth,  II.  338. 
Besan9on,  I.  284,  298,  299,  300. 
Besan9on.  Cathedral  of,  I.  70,  303, 

304,  307- 
Besangon,  Mihtary  importance  of, 

I.  299.  300. 

Bibracte,  a  Celtic  city,  I.  322. 
"Bishops   of   Maillezais   and   Fon- 

tenay-le-Comte,"  II.  274. 
Bishops  of  Tulle,  II.  105. 
Bishop's  Prairie,  The,  I.  334. 
Black  Gate,  The,  I.  303. 
Boniface  I,  Pope,  I.  45. 
Boniface  VIII,  Pope,  I.  213. 
Boniface  IX,  Pope,  II.  345. 
Bordeaux.  II.  323,  331,  335,  338, 

341.  342,  346,  349- 
Bordeaux,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66,  70; 

II.  323,  325,  328,  331,  335,  336, 
337.  33^<  342,  345.  346. 

Borgia,  Caesar,  I.  210. 

de  Bourbon,  Antoine,  II.  293. 

de     Bourbon-Conde,     Anne-Gene- 

vieve,  II.  97. 
Bourg,  I.  267,  268. 
Bourg,   Bishopric  of,   I.   268,    271, 

275- 
Bourg,  Cathedral  of,   I.   267,   270, 

272,  273,  275. 
Bourg,    Episcopal  elevation   of,    I. 

267,  268,  271. 
Bresse,   Province  of,    I.    259,    260, 

271. 
Brianfon,  I.  213. 
Brianyon,  Lords  of,  I.  107. 
Brou,  Abbey -church  of,  I.  271,  272, 

276. 
Bull   for  creation  of  Bishopric  of 

Tulle,  II.  loi,  102. 
Burchard  II,  Archbishop  of  Lyons, 

II.  66,  67. 
Burgundian  School,  I.  66,  87,  317. 
Burgundy,  I.  8,  14,  30,  61,  77,  259, 

260,  322,  350. 
Byzantine  influence,  I.  77. 
Byzantine-  Romanesque-G  o  t  h  i  c  , 

Modern,  I.  168. 


Cahors,  II.  118,  123,  124,  127,  137. 
Cahors,  Bishops  of,  I.  13;  II.  124, 

134- 
Cahors,   Capture  of,   II.    119,    120, 

123- 


Cahors,  Cathedral  of,  I.  74,  ii8;II. 

127,  130,  134. 
Calixtus  II,  Pope,  II.  127,  133. 
Calvert  Museum,  The,  I.  179. 
Calvinists   I.  192. 
Campanile,  Die,  I.  176. 
Campanile,  Gap,  I.  163. 
Campanile,  Le  Puy,  II.  ^^,  49. 
Camus.     Jean-Pierre,     Bishop     of 

Belley,  I.  263,  264. 
Canons  of  Cahors,  Crowning  of,  II. 

134- 
Canons  of  Embrun,  I.  154. 
Canons  of  Grenoble,  I.  250. 
Capitulary  Hall,  Le  Puy,  II.  38. 
Capitulary  Hall,  Tulle,  II.  114,  117. 
Carthusians,   The,    I.   ^^,   99,    276, 

357- 
Casteljaloux,  II.  353. 
Castres,  Cathedral  of,  I.  83. 
Catacombs,  The,  I.  87,  91. 
Catherine  de  Medicis,  II.  118,  271. 
Catholics  and  Huguenots,  Struggles 

between,  I.  173,  174,  374,377:11. 

271,  272,  273. 
Causes  of  ruin  of  the  Templars,  I. 

240,  241. 
Chalons-sur-Saone,  I.  150. 
Chalons-sur-Saone,  Cathedral  of,  I. 

353.  354.  357- 
Chambery,   I.    108,    127,    128,    132, 

^33'  134.  268. 
Chambery,  Cathedral  of,  I.  132,  133. 
Champagne,  I.  77. 
de  Champagny,  Pierre,  I.  108. 
Chanlite,  Ame,  I.  267. 
de  Chantal,  Madame  Jeanne,  I.  127. 
Chapel  of  Saint-Anne,  I.  154. 
Chapels  of  Cathedral  of  Lyons,  II. 

78. 
Chapels  of  Saint-Jean-Baptiste  of 

Lyons,  II.  77,  78. 
Charance,  Chateau  of,  I.  160,  161. 
Charlemagne,  I.  45,  107,  184,  192; 

II.  14,  320. 
Charles  V,  I.  299,  300. 
Charles  VII.  I.   127,   128,  291;  II. 

20. 
Charles  X,  II.  272. 
Charles  Emmanuel  II,  I.  122. 
Charles  the  Bold.  I.  17. 
Choir  of  Cathedral  of  Moulins,  II. 

82.  92.  95. 
Choir-stalls.  Saint-Claude,    I.    293, 

295.  296.  297,  29S. 
Choir-stalls.        Saint-Jean-de-Mau- 

rienne,  I.  99. 
Chorges.  The.  I.  159.  168. 
Choristers'  school,  Dijon,  I.  312. 


Index 


367 


Christ  adored  by  Saint  Peter  II  and 
Saint  Jacobus  Assyriensis, — a 
fresco,  I.  III. 

Christianity,  Spread  of,  in  Roman 
Colonies,  I.  179,  180,  183,  325; 
II.  5,  6,  7,  8,  63,  65,  66,  342. 

Church,  The,  I.  42,  45,  46,  49,  50, 
107,  108 ;  II.  149,  267. 

Church,  The  angelic,  II.  33,  37. 

Church,  The,  its  influence  on  civil- 
isation, I.  49,  50,  53,  54. 

"Church  of  the  Little  Birds,"  I.  357. 

Ciborium,  Cathedral  of  Grenoble,  I. 

255- 
Ciborium,  The  alabaster.  Cathedral 

of    Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne,     I. 

99,  100,  116. 
Cigaliers,  The,  I.  175. 
Citeaux,  I.  33. 
Clairvaux,  I.  33. 
Clement  V,  Pope,  I.  233,  234,  235, 

236,  239,  240,  241,  247;  II.  338, 

342.  345- 
Clement  V,  Statue  of,  II.  337. 
Clement  VI,  Pope,  II.  192. 
Clermont,  I.  382,  384,  386,  392,  395. 
Clermont,  Bishops  of,  I.  29. 
Clermont,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66,  382, 

384,  395-  396,  401,  402. 
Clock    of    Saint-Jean-Baptiste    of 

Lyons,  II.  77. 
Cloister  of  Bordeaux,  II.  328. 
Cloister  of  Cahors,  II.  129. 
Cloister  of  Chambery,  I.   132. 
Cloister  of  Grenoble,  I.  250. 
Cloister  of  Le  Puy,  II.  32,  38,  50,  53, 

54,  57- 

Cloister  of  Lugon,  II.  246,  249,  250. 

Cloister  of  Moutiers-en-Tarentaise, 
I.  108. 

Cloisters  of  Perigueux,  II.  161,  168, 
171,  174,  180,  183,  187. 

Cloister  of  Saint-Jean-de-Mau- 
rienne. I.  10 1.  103. 

Cloister  of  Sarlat,  II.  145. 

Cloister  of  Tulle,  II.  107,  114    117. 

Cloister  of  Valence,  I.  209. 

Cluniac,  The,  I.  61. 

Cluny,  Monks  of.  I.  370. 

Clusse,  Rudolph  of,  I.  37.. 

Coinage,  Right  of,  I.  95. 

Collegiale,  The  old.  Cathedral  of 
Moulins,  II.  91. 

Columns,   Corinthian,   I.    176,   226, 

Conditions  of  society  during  Middle 

Ages,  I.  12,  13,  14,  15. 
Conrad,  Emperor,  I.  96. 
Cordeliers,  The,  I.   122. 


Corinthian  arch  of  Germanicus,  II. 

311- 
Council  of  Clermont,   I.   386,   387, 

388,  391,  392.  395. 
Council  of  Orleans,  I.  259. 
Council  of  the  Church,  The  great,  I. 

235- 
Councils  of  the  Church,  I.  235,  236, 

237- 
Cradle  of  Gallic  Christianity,  The, 

I.  200. 
Crusade,  The  first,  I.  384,  385,  388, 

391.  392. 
Crusaders,  I.  77,  91. 
Crusades,  The,  I.  77. 
Crussoi,  Ruins  of,  I.  213,  214. 
Crypt  of  Cathedral  of  Limoges,  II. 

203. 
Crypt  of  Cathedral  of  Moiitiers-en- 

Tarentaise,  I.  112. 
Crypt  of  Cathedral  of  Saintes,  II. 

311- 
Crypt  of  Saint-B^nigne,  I.  317,  318, 
320,  321,  322. 


Darentasia,  I.  104. 

Daudet,  II.  6i. 

Dauphin,  The,  I.  42,  128,  131,  162. 

Dauphin^,  I.  4,  38,  41,  42,  61,  73, 

128,  137,  159,  161,  170,  178,  184, 

196,  200,  209,  220,  254. 
Dauphind,  Count  ot,  I.  42. 
Dea  Augusta  Vocontiorum,  I    171. 
Delorme,  Philibert,  II.  306. 
Demetrius,  Saint,  I.  159,  162. 
Diana,  Duchess  of  Poitiers,  I.  210. 
Die,  I.  171,  172,  173,  174. 
Die,  Bishops  of,  I.  172. 
Die,  Cathedral  of,  I.   70,   174,   175, 

176,  177,  178;  II.  291. 
Die,  Countess  of,  I.  175. 
Dijon,  I.  307,  312,  322. 
Dijon,  Basilica  of,  I.  317,  318. 
Dijon,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66,  308,  311, 

314.  317.  318,  322. 
Domical  style.  The  French,  I.   78; 

II    132,  133.  137.  178- 
Dominicans,  The,  I    235;  II.   14. 
Door    of    facade,    Saint-Paul-trois- 

Chateaux,  I.  188. 
Doubs,  The,  I.  300. 
Duchatel,  Pierre,  Bishop  of  Tulle, 

II.  105. 
Duke  of  Aquitaine,  II.  265,  266. 
Durance,  The,  I.   138,  142,   154. 


368 


Index 


E 


Ecclesia  Sancti  Joannis  Rotundi  or 
Saint- Jean-le-Rond,  I.   162. 

Edict  of  Nantes,  I.  159,  175;  II. 
272.  298,  355. 

Eleanor  of  Aquitaine,  I.  4,  25. 

Embrun,  I.  137,  138,  142,  145,  154, 

157- 
Embrun,  Canons  of,  I.  143,  154. 
Embrun,  Cathedrals  of,  I.  73,  141, 

143.  144.  145.  146,  149.  150.  154- 
Embrun,  Our  Lady  of,  I.  141,  142, 

143,  144.  153.  i'55- 
Epistle  of  the  churches  of  Vienne 

and   Lyons  to   the   Brethren    in 

Asia  and  Phrvgia;II.  63,  64,  65, 

66. 
Espaly,  Rock  of,  II.  19. 
d'Euse,  Jacques,  II.  67. 


Fa9ade,  The,  Cathedral  of  Angou- 

leme,  II    219. 
Fa9ade,  The,  Cathedral  of  Lyons,  I. 

73- 
Fa9ade,  The,  Cathedral  of  Moulins, 

II.  85,  86. 
Felibres,  The,  I.  175. 
Flamboyant,  The,  II.  82,  92,  129, 

137,  201. 
Florus,  Saint,  I.  370. 
Flying  buttresses.  Bazas,  II.  359. 
Flying    buttresses,    Bordeaux,    II. 

331.  332,  339- 
Fontenay,  II.  273,  274,  276,  303. 
Fort  de  la  Batie,  I.  215. 
Fourvieres,  Churches  of,  II.  61. 
Franche-Comte,  I.  298,  300. 
Francis  I,  I.  142,  160;  II.  14,  214. 
Franfois-de-Sales,  Saint,  I.  38,  122, 

124,  127,  263,  264. 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  I.  384. 
Freemasons,  I.  224. 
Fresco,    Christ    adored    by    Saint 

Peter  II  and  Saint  Jacobus  As- 

syriensis,  I.  iii. 
Fresco,  "Liberal  Arts,"  I.  50. 
Fresco  of  Saint  Vincent,  Macon,  I. 

361,  362. 
Frescoes,  Cathedral  of  Limoges,  II. 

203,  204. 


Gallo-Byzantine  churches,  II.  127, 
12S,  167,  217. 


Gallo-Byzantine,  The,  I.  73,  74,  78, 

87;  II.  127,  128,  167. 
Gap,  L  137,  138,  157,  158,  159,  161, 

162. 
Gap.  Bishops  of,  I,  161,  162. 
Gap,  Cathedrals  of ,  I.  158,  162,  163, 

164,  167,  i68,  169,  170,  171. 
Gap,  Pro-Cathedral  of,  I.  163. 
Gargoyles,  II.  73,  359,  360. 
Garonne,  The,  I.  25. 
Gascony,  I.  8,  25. 
Gate  of  Saint  Andrew,  I.  334. 
"Gate,  The  Black,"  I.  301,  303. 
Gaul,  I.  45,  88. 
Geneva,  I.  115,  122,  123,  124. 
Geneva,  Bishops  of,  I.  123,  124. 
Geneva,  Canons  of,  I.  122,  123. 
Geraud,  Hugues,  Bishop  of  Cahors, 

II.  127. 
Gere,  The,  I.  220. 
Gonthier,  Abbe,  I.  123. 
de    Gorrevod.     Louis,     Bishop    of 

Bourg,  I.  268. 
de  Goth,  Bertrand,  II.  33S. 
Gothic  cathedrals,  I.  99,   108,  117, 

168,  264,  272,  292,  304,  312,  317, 

336,  357.  378,  393  ;  fl-  74,  82,  105, 

205,  234,  261,  324,  328,  356. 
Gothic,  The,  I.  61,  62,  63,  66,  70, 

77,  91,  99,  108,  117,  264,  292,  304; 

II.  128,  137,  192. 
Gothic,  The  Poitevin,  I.  65,  68,  87. 
Gouvemet,  Marquis  of,  I.  178. 
Grand-Cellererie,  The,  I.  281. 
Great  Pardon,  The,  II.  11,  12. 
Gregory  X,  Pope,  I.  173. 
Grenoble,  I.  ^^,  103,  227,  247,  248, 

249.  253. 

Grenoble,  Bishops  of,  I.  210,  247, 

250.  253,  268.     • 

Grenoble,  Cathedrals  of ,  I.  253,  254, 

255- 
Grenoble,  Prince  of,  I.  253. 
"Guerre  des  Amouroux,"  The,  II. 

118. 


H 


Hall,  Capitular\',  Le  Puy,  II.  38. 
Hall  of  the  "Three  Orders  of  Peri- 

gord,"  L  170. 
Hannibal,  I.  179. 
Hautes-Alpes,  I.  137,  157. 
Henry  IL  I.   142,  143,  144,  210. 
Henry   II,    Investiture   of,    I.    143. 

144- 
Henry  IV.  I.  2q.  284,  II.  118,  119, 
120,   123,  272. 


Index 


369 


Henry  of  Navarre,  II.  71,  72. 

"Holy  Church,"  The,  I.  200,  202. 

"Hotel  des  Monnaies,"  I.  95. 

Huguenots,  The,  I.  173,  174,  177, 
200,  201,  202,  358;,  II.  68,  161, 
168,  215,  262,  271,  272,  273,  288, 
2q6,  297,298,  306,  307,  318,  355. 

Humbert  II,  of  Savoy,  1.  42,  107. 

Humbert  IV,  Bishop  of  Die,  I.  173. 

Humbert  of  the  White  Hands,  I.  96. 


Innocent  V,  Pope,  I.  108. 
Innocent  X,  Pope,  II.  275 
Innocent  XI,  Pope,  I.  174. 
Inquisition,  The,  I.  124. 
Isere,  The,  I.  42,  103. 
Isle  de  France,  I.  62,  65,  69,  77. 


Jacques  d'Euse,  II.  124. 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  I.   58. 

Jeremiah,  Saint,  II.  16. 

Joan  of  Arc,  I.  4;  II.  231. 

John  XXII,  Pope,  I.  21,  370;  II.  67, 

98,  loi,  102,  124,  127,  250,  267, 

320. 
Jura,  The,  I.  270,  300,  350. 
Justiniani,  Ange,  I.  123. 
Juv^nis,  Raymond,  I.  162. 


K 


King  of  Navarre,  II.  293. 
Knights  Templars,  I.  231,  232,  233, 

234,  235,  236,  230,  240. 
Knocker,  Bronze,  Cathedral  of  Le 

Puy,  II.  41. 


Lamartine,  II.  62. 

Lambert,  Peter,  Canon  of  Geneva, 

I.  122. 
Languedoc,  I.  25. 
Lansquenets,  The,  I.  192. 
Lantern  of  the  Dead,  The,  II.  141. 
La  Rochelle,  II.  275,  292,  293,  294, 

295,  298,  301,  303,  304. 
La  Rochelle,  Cathedral  of,  I.  83,  84; 

II.  292,  306. 

La  Rochelle,  Religious  history  of, 
II.  293,  294,  295,  296,  297,  298, 
301,  302,  303,  304,  306. 

La  Vendue,  II.  262,  265,  266,  269, 
273.  279.  291- 

24 


Lazarus,  I.  179. 

Leo  X,  Pope,  I.  271. 

Le  Puy,  II.  3,  8,  9,  10,  11,  13,  14, 

15,  17,  18,  19,  20,  23. 
Le  Puy,  Abbey-church  of,  II.  157. 
Le  Puy,  Bishop  of,  I.  13,  392;  II. 

20.  57- 

Le  Puy.  Cathedral  of,  I.  69;  II.  10, 

II,  23,  27,  28,  31,  32,  33,  34,  37, 

38,  41.  42,  45,  46,  49,  50,  54,  57. 

"Liberal  Arts,  The,"  a  fresco,  II. 

5°- 
Limoges,  I.  25;  II.  187,  193,  194. 
Limoges,   Cathedral  of,   I.    66;   II. 

1S8,  192,  193,  194,  197,  198,  201, 

202,  203,  204,  205. 
"Livre  d'Or,  The,"  II.  320. 
Loire,  The,  I.  25,  350. 
Loretto,  Holy  House  of,  I.  210. 
Louis,  Duke  of  Savoy,  I.  128. 
Louis  IX,  I.  17. 
Louis  XI,  I.  7,  127,  128,  131,  134, 

142,  144,  150,  153,  192,  210,  248, 

249,  250,  291. 
Louis  XI,  Marriage  of,  I.  128,  131. 
Louis  XII,  I.  142,  210. 
Louis  XIII,  I.  142,  II.  273,  355. 
Louis  XIV,  I.   174,  178,  291,  299, 

300;  II.  102,  305,  314,  355. 
Louis  the  Vavarian,  I.  210. 
Lourdes,  I.  145. 
Lu^on,  II.  242,  245,  246. 
Lufon,  Cathedral  of,  I.  83;  II.  254, 

257,  258,  261,  262. 
Lunade,  The.  II.  no,  113. 
Lyons,  II.  58,  61,  62,  66,  67,  68,  71. 
Lyons,  Bishops  of,  I.  268;  11.  66. 
Lyons,  Cathedrals  of.  I.  66;  II.  61, 

66,  67,  71.  72,  73,  74,   77.   78. 
Lyons,  Early  history  01,  11.  6::. 


M 


Macon,  I.  357,  365, 

Macon,  Cathedral  of,  I.   358,  361, 

362.  363.  364.  365:  II-  288. 
Madelaine  de  Saint-Nectaire,  I.  29, 

30- 
Maguelonne,  Cathedral  of,  II.  291. 
Maillezais,   II.   262,  268,  270,  271, 

272,  273,  274,  275,  276,  280,  283, 

291.  303- 
Maillezais,  Abbey  of,  II.  265,  266, 

267,  268,  271,  272,  273,  275,  276, 
280,  283,  284,  291. 

Maillezais,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66 ;  II. 

268,  269,  273,  284,  287,  288,  291. 
Maillezais,  Creation  of  Bishopric  of, 

II.  268. 


370 


Index 


Maillezais,  The  Island  of,  II.  276, 

279. 
Mainmortables,  I.  283,  284,  287. 
Main-morte,  The,  I.  282,  283. 
Manecauterie,  U.  77. 
Marcellin,  Saint,  I.  145. 
Marche,  The,  I.  25. 
Marck,  Robert  de  la.  I.  192. 
Marguerite  of  Valois.  II.  118. 
Marriage  of  Henn-  of  Xavarre  and 

Marie  de  Medicis,  II.  71,  72. 
Marseilles.    Cathedral    of,    I.     167, 

169. 
Martel,  Charles  I.  42. 
Martial,    Saint,  Apostle    of    Aqui- 

taine.  II.  59,  187. 
Martyrs.  Christian.  I.  326,  327,  328, 

331;  II.  63,  64.  65.  66.  354. 
Mar>^  Magdalene,  I.  180. 
Maurienne.  Bishops  o^  I.  95,  99. 
Medallions.  Stone,  II.  73,  74. 
de   Medicis.    Catherine,    I.    16;    II. 

118,  271. 
Merle.  Captain.  I.  374. 
Middle  Ages.  I.  11,  62,  91,  95.  145, 

160,  173,  210.  299.  325,  350:  II. 

50,  150,  151,  207,  284. 
Midi,  The,  I.  73,  77,  87,  214,  215, 

243- 
Midland.  The,  I.  42,  61,  62,  65,  66, 

73.  74.  78.  83.  84.  87. 
Milman,  Dean.  I.  46. 
Missionaries.  Earliest  Christian.  I. 

179.  180. 
Mochet,  I.  99. 
Mouusurry  of  the  Jura,  I.   280,   281, 

382 

'  ■   '    -ques.  I.  107. 


276. 

Mon--; 


Moi 


Crartteuse,  I. 


iint-ri-;   T,^,.     I.  279,  280, 

•8. 


MonTr*  11    '-    'J„ii„.iifrti  of,  I.  83. 

Montbron,  Lords  of,  I.  13. 

de  Monteil,  Adhemar,  the  "chival- 
rous Bishop  of  Le  Puy,"  I.  392. 

de  Montfort,  Simon,  II.  353,  354. 

Montluc,  II.  355. 

Mont  Saint-Just.  I.  227. 

Morel,  M.,  Canon  of  Cathedral  of 
Saint-Paul-trois-Chateaux,  1. 191. 

Mosaic  pavement  of  choir,  Saint- 
Paul-trois-Chateaux,  I.   191. 

Mosaics.  I.  227. 

Moulins,  II.  81. 

Moulins,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66;  II.  82, 
85,  86,  87,  88,  91,  95,  97. 


Mount  Anis,  II.  8,  9,  14,  19,  58. 
Moutiers-en-Tarentaise,  I    103,  104. 

108,  III,  n2,  115. 
Moutiers-en-Tarentaise,    Cathedral 

of,  I.  83.  104,   108. 
Museum,  The  Calvert,  I.   179. 
"Mylas  surprised  by  the  Nymphs," 

a  mosaic,  I.  227,  228. 


N 


Xaf)oleon  III,  I.  35. 

Narbonne.  Cathedral  of,  I.  65. 

Needle,  The,  I.  223,  224,  225,  226. 

N^rac.  II.  118,  353. 

Nimes.  I.  178. 

Notre-Dame  of  Alet,  I.  58. 

Not  re- Dame-de-Grace  of  Clermont. 

I.   382.  383.  384,  395.  396,  401 

402. 
Notre-Dame  of  Bourg.  I.  270.  271. 

272.  273,  275. 
Notre-Dame  of  Die,    I.    174,    175, 

176,  177.  178. 
Notre-Dame  of  Gap.   I.    164.    167. 

168,  169,  170,  171. 
Notre-Dame  of  Grenoble,    I.    253. 

254.  255- 

Notre-Dame  of  Saint-Paul-trois- 
Chateaux.  I.  183.  184.  187.  188. 
191,  192,  195.  196,  199,  206. 

Notre-Dame  of  Tulle,  II.  106,  109. 


O 


Octavien  de  Saint-Gelais,  Bishop  of 
Angouleme,  II.  227,  228,  229. 

Order,  Carthusian,  I.  99,  276,  307. 

Order  of  the  Benedictines,  I.  276, 
280,  281,  282,  298. 

Order  of  Cluny,  I.  342. 

Order  of  the  Franciscans,  II.  270. 

Order  of  Saint  Dominic,  I.  235 ;  II. 
14,  191. 

Order  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  I. 
127. 

Oriental  influences  in  architecture, 
I.  205,  342,  345,  346. 

Origin  of  the  Auvergnat  Roman- 
esque, I.  69,  70. 

Origin  of  the  Cathedral,  I.  87,  88, 
91. 

Our  Lady  of  Le  Puy,  II.  16. 


Palace,   Bishop's,   Lu9on,   II.    246, 

249,  250.  253,  254- 
Palais  de  Justice,  Grenoble,  I.  254. 


Index 


371 


Pardon,  The  Great,  II.  11,  12,  13, 

14. 
Paris,  The  Cathedral  of.  I.  58. 
Parvise,  The,  Cathedral  of  Moulins, 

II.  86,  87. 
Pascal,  I.  383,  384. 
Paul  III,  Pope,  I.  271. 
Paul,     patron    saint    of    Augusta 

Tricastinorum,  I.  180,  181. 
Paul-les- Fontaines,  I.  195. 
Pendentif,  The,  I.  209,  211. 
Penitents,  Confraternity  of,  I.  163. 
Pepin,  I.  45 ;  II.  320. 
Pdrigord,  I.   77. 
Pdrigueux,  I.  58;  II.  149,  155,  156, 

157,  161,  164,   168. 
Perigueux,  Abbatial  church  of,   I. 

78;  II.  156,  167. 
Perigueux,  Bishops  of,  II.  157. 
Perigueux,  Cathedral  of,  I.  74,  307; 

II.  157,  158,  159,  161,  162,  163, 

164,  170,  173,  174,  177,  178,  179, 

180,  183,  184. 
Peter  Lambert,  I.  122. 
Peter  the  Hermit,  I.  385. 
Petit,  II.  37,  38. 
Peyron,  L'Abbd,  II.  57. 
Philip  of  Valois,  I.  42. 
Philip  the   Fair,   I.    233,   234,   236, 

239,  241 ;  II.  67. 
Pilate's  Mountain,  I.  227. 
Pilate's   Tomb,    I.    223,    224,    225, 

226. 
Pius  II,  Pope,  II.  228,  229. 
Pius  VI,  Pope,  I.  210,  213. 
Place  du  Breuil,  Le  Puy,  II.  14. 
Poitiers,  I.   172:  II.  231,  232,  233. 
Poitiers,  Cathedral  of,  I.  66,  73 ;  II. 

233.  234.  237,  238,  241,  242,  324. 
Poitiers,  Diana,  Duchess  of ,  I.  210. 
Poitou,  I.  22,  25. 
Polignac,  II.  49. 
Poor  Fellow-soldiers  of  Christ,   I. 

231,  232. 
Pope  Alexander  III,  I.  385;  II.  14. 
Pope  Alexander  IV,  I.  233. 
Pope  Boniface  I,  I.  45. 
Pope  Boniface  VIII,  I.  213. 
Pope  Boniface  IX,  I.  345. 
Pope  Calixtus  II,  II.  127,  133. 
Pope  Clement  V,   I.   21,   233,   234, 

235,  236,  239,  240,  242,  247;  II. 

338,  342. 
Pope  Clement  VI,  II.  192. 
Pope  Gregory  X,  I.  173. 
Pope  Innocent  III,  I.  13  ;  II.  188. 
Pope  Innocent  V,  I.   108. 
Pope  Innocent  X,  II.  275. 
Pope  Innocent  XI,  I.  174. 


Pope  John  XXII,  I.  21,  370;  II.  67, 

98,  loi,  102,  124,  127,  250,  267, 

320. 
Pope  Leo  X,  I.  271. 
Pope  Paul  III,  I,  271. 
Pope  Pius  II,  I.  228,  229. 
Pope  Pius  VI,  I.  210,  213. 
Pope  Urban  II,  I.    192,   200,  370, 

384,  386,  388,  391,  392,  395;  II. 

14- 
Pope  Urban,  VIII,  II.  274,  275. 
Pope  Zacharius,  I.  45. 
Porch,  The,  Cathedral  of  Autun,  I. 

341,  342,  345.  346,  347.  349.  350- 
Porch,  The,  Cathedral  of  Le  Puy, 

II.  38,  41,  42. 
Porch,   The  triple,  Autun,   I.   342, 

346,  349- 
Portal  of  Cathedral  of  Autun,    I. 

349- 
Portal  of  Cathedral  of  Cahors,  II. 

^33'  134- 
Portal  of  Cathedral  of  Embrun,  I. 

149.  ISO- 
Portal,  The  red,  I.  173. 
Porte  d'Arroux,  I.  335. 
Pothinus,  Bishop  of  Lyons,  II.  63, 

64. 
Prince  of  Grenoble,  I.  253. 
Provence,  I.  73,  87,  180,  184,  215. 
Provincia,  The  imperial,  I.   179. 
Prudhomme,  I.  253,  254. 
Pseudo-Classic,  The,  I.  78,  81,  82, 

83.  84. 
Pulchra,  ancient  name  of  Vienne, 

I.  215. 
Puy-de-D6me,  I.  383,  384. 
Puy-Saint-Front,  II.  155,  161. 
Pyrenees,  The,  I.  25. 


Quercy,  The,  I.  25. 
Quicherat,  I.  255. 


R 


Rabelais,  II.  269,  270. 

"  Rape  of  Ganymede,"  a  mosaic,  I. 

227. 
de   Rebeyre,  Monseigneur,   I.  370, 

373- 
Reformation,  The,  I.  122,  192. 
Reims,  Cathedral  of,  I.  58. 
Religion,    Wars   of,    I.    14,    15,    29, 

159- 
Renaissance,  The,  I.  78,  108,  209, 
210,  291,  299. 


372 


Index 


Restraint  of  temporal  power  of 
Bishops,  I.  248,  249,  250,  253. 

Revolution,  The,  I.  108,  122,  137, 
142,  150,  159,  161,  195,  254,  287, 

307.  377;  II-  149.  193.  202. 
Rhone,  The,  II.  61,  62,   179,   196, 

200,  213,  214,  215,  220,  227. 
Richelieu,  Cardinal,  I.  263,  264;  II. 

95,  242,  245.  246,-253,  275,  298, 

301.  302,  303,  30-5. 
Rococo,  The,  I.  303. 
Rodez,  Cathedral  of,  I.  58. 
Rodolphe  de  Clusse,  I.  247. 
Roman  remains,  I.  171,   172,   178, 

179,  199,  215,  220,  221,  223,  227, 

J      303.331.332.334.335.336.349; 

^1      11.46.49,137.308,311,350,353. 

'Romanesque,  The,  I.  6i,  66,  70,  7:?. 

74,   146,   149,  202,  206,  209;  II. 

137,   188,   192. 

Romanesque,  The  Auvergnat,  I.  69, 

70.  82,  87;  II.  31. 
Romanesque,    The    Provencal,     I. 

184,  188,  191. 
Romanesque    Cathedrals,    I.     176, 

.  178,  199,  202,  336;  II.  31,  105. 
Rood-screen,  Cathedral  of  Limoges, 

II.  202. 
de  Roqueis.  Raymond,  II.  346,  349. 
Rousseau,  I.  122,  134. 
Routiers,  II.  50,  158. 


Sacre-Coeur,    Church    of,    Moulins. 

II.  82. 
Saint-Andre  of  Bordeaux,  II.  323, 

324.  325.  328,  331.  338,  342,  345. 

346,  350. 
Saint-Andre,  Portais  of,  II.  332. 
Saint-Andr6-le-Bas    of    Vienna,    I. 

247. 
Saint- ApoUinaire    of    Valence,     I. 

206,  209.  213. 
de  Saint-Astier,  Amould,  II.  98. 
Saint-Barthelemy  of  La    Rochelle, 

II.  302,  305,  307. 
Saint-Barthelemy,  Tower  of,  I.  84; 

II.  304. 
Saint-Benigne  of  Dijon,  I.  66,  308, 

311.  312,  314,  317,  318. 
Saint-Benig^e  of  Dijon,    Crypt  of, 

I.  317.  318,  320,  322. 

Saint  Bernard,  I.  16,  91,  124,  279; 

II.  138. 

Saint-Caprais  of  Agen,  II.  355,  356. 
Saint-Claude,  I.  276,  277,  280,  282, 
284,  285. 


Saint-Claude,  Abbatial  churches  of, 

I.  287,  288,  298. 
Saint-Claude,  Abbots  of,  I.  281,  287. 
Saint-Claude,    Benedictine    Abbey 

of,  I.  279,  280. 
Saint-Claude,  Cathedral  of,   I.   66, 

84,  285,  287,  288,  289,  291,    292, 

295,  297,  298. 
Saint  Demetrius,  I.  159,  16a. 
Saint  Denis,  II.  5. 
Saint  Dominic,  I.  16,  124;  II.  14, 

188,  298. 
Saint-Etienne  of  Agen,  II.  355. 
Saint-Etienne  of  Besan9on,  I.  303. 
Saint-Etienne  of  Limoges,  II.  192, 

193,  194,  197,  198,  201,  202,  203, 

204,  205. 
Saint-Etienne  of  Lyons,  II.  67. 
Saint-Etienne  of  Xevers,  I.  69. 
Saint-Etienne  of  Perigueux,  II.  157, 

158,  161,  162,  163,  164. 
Saint-Eusebius,  II.  268. 
Saint-Florus,  I.  370. 
Saint-Flour,  I.  369,  370,  373,  374. 

377.  382. 
Saint-Flour,  Bishops  of,  I.  370. 
Saint-Flour,   Cathedral  of,   I.   370, 

377.  378.  381.  382. 
Saint  Francis  of  Assisi,  I.  21,  122, 

357- 
Saint-Franfois-de-Sales,  I.  38,  122, 

124,  127,  263,  264;  II.  298. 
Saint-Front.  II.  5,  6,  7,  8. 
Saint-Front,    Abbatial    church    of 

Perigueux,  I.  58,  78;  II.  156,  167, 

178. 
Saint-Front  of  Perigueux,  II.  157, 

158,  159,  163,  164,  170,  173,    174, 

177,  17S.  179,  180,  183,  i84,  187. 
Saint  George,  II.  5.  6,  7,  9,  14. 
Saint  Hilary',  II.  252. 
Saint-Hugues  of  Grenoble,  I.  255. 
Saint  Jacobus  Assyriensis,  I.  112. 
Saint  Jacques,  I.  104. 
Saint-Jacques,  Monastery  of,  I.  107. 
Saint-Jean  of  Besanjon,  I.  303.  304, 

307- 
Saint -Jean-Baptiste  of   Bazas,    II. 

356.  359.  360.  363,  364. 
Saint -Jean-Baptiste  of   Lyons,   II. 

61,  67.  72,  73,  74,  77-  78- 
Saint -Jean-Baptiste,  Portals  of,  II. 

360,  363. 
Saint-Jean-d'Angely,  Forest  01,   I. 

231.  241. 
Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne,  I.  95,  96. 
Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne,       Cathe- 
dral of,  I.  96,  99,  100,  loi,  103, 

177,  297. 


Index 


373 


Saint-Jean-le-Rond  of  Gap,  I.  162, 

163. 
Saint  John  the  Baptist,  I.  99. 
Saint  John  the  Evangelist,  I.  160. 
Saint  Julian,  II.  5. 
Saint-Lazare    of    Autun,    II.    336, 

341,  342,  345.  346,  350. 
Saint  Louis,  II.  16,  17,  67. 
Saint-Louis  of  La  Rochelle,  I.  83, 

84;  II.  292,  305,  306,  307. 
Saint  Marcellin,  I.  145. 
Saint  Martial,  Apostle  of  Aquitaine, 

II.  5,  9,  59,  187,  342,  345- 
Saint  Martin  of  the  Elms,  I.  183. 
Saint-Maurice    of   Vienne,    I.    215, 

216,  219,  241,  242,  243,  244,  247. 
Saint  Maximus,  I.   183. 

Saint  Michael,  I.  183. 

Saint-Michel-l'Aiguille,   II.    19,   20. 

Saint-Nazaire  of  Carcassonne,  I.  65. 

Saint-Nazaire-et-Saint-Celse,    Co- 
Cathedral  of  Autun,  I.  70,  336. 

Saint-Nizier,  Church  of,  Lyons,  II. 
72,  91- 

Saint  Paul,  I.  180,  183. 

Saint-Paul-trois-Ch5,teaux,  I.  178, 
179,   183,   199. 

Saint-Paul-trois-Chdteaux,  Cathe- 
dral of,  I.  73,  183,  184,  187,  188, 
191,  192,  195,  196,  199,  206. 

Saint  Peter,  II,  I.  iii,  112;  II.  5, 
6,  7- 

Saint-Pierre,  Abbatial  church  of 
Vienne,  I.  247. 

Saint- Pierre  of  Angoul^me,  II.  214, 

217,  218,  219,  220,  223,  224,  230. 
Saint-Pierre  of  Maillezais,  II.  284, 

287,  291. 
Saint-Pierre   of   Mofitiers,    I.    104, 

107,  108,  III,  112,  115. 
Saint-Pierre   of    Poitiers,    II.    233, 

234,  237,  238,  241,  242,  324. 
Saint-Pierre  of  Saint-Claude,  I.  288, 

291,  292,  295,  297,  298. 
Saint-Pierre-es-liens  of  Annecy,   I. 

117,1 18,  121,  122,  124. 
Saint-Remy,  I.  178,  180. 
Saint  Romain-en-Gal,  I.  227. 
Saint- Sacerdos  of  Sarlat,   II.    145, 

146,  147. 
Saint  Scutaire,  II.  10. 
Saint  Sernin  of  Toulouse,  I.  69. 
Saint-Seurin,  Canons  of,  II.  349. 
Saint-Seurin,   Collegiate  church  of 

Bordeaux,  II.  342,  345,  346. 
Saint  Symphorien,  Martyrdom  of, 

I.  326,  327,  328,  331. 
Saint  Thecla,  I.  99. 
Saint  Trophime,  II.  5. 


Saint- Vincent   of    Macon,    I.    357, 

361,  362,  363,  364,  365. 
Saint  Vincent,    Fresco  of,   I.    361, 

362. 
Saint- Vincent-de-Paul,  I.  127. 
Saint  Vosy,  II.  10. 
Sainte-Anne,  Chapel  of,  I.  154. 
Sainte-Colombe,  I.  227,  244. 
Sainte-Mari^vof  Die,    I.    175,    176, 

177,   178.     \ 
Sainte-Jeanne  de  Chantal,  I.  127. 
Sainte-Radegonde,  II.  232. 
Saintes,  II.  308,  311. 
Saintes,  Abbey-church  of,  II.  312. 
Saintes,  Cathedral  of,  I.  73;  II.  312, 

317,  318,  320,  323,  324. 
Saintonge,  I.  22. 
Salomont,  The,  I.  227. 
Sand,  Georges,  I.  134. 
Saone,  The,  II.  61,  62. 
Saracens,  The,  I.  200. 
Sarlat,  II.  137,  147,  149,  150,  151, 

155- 
Sarlat,  Cathedral  of.  I.  23;  II.  137, 

138,  141,  142,  145.   146,  147.  155- 
Savign6,  I.  226. 
Savoy,  I.  3,  14,  33.  35.  61,  84,  95, 

96,  99,  100,  103,  107,  108,  122. 
Savoy,  Duchess  of,  I.  36. 
Savoy,  Duke  of,  I.  96,  145,  267. 
Savoyards,  I.  36. 
Sculptures  of  fa9ade  of  Cathedral 

of  Angouleme,  II.  219. 
See  of  Gap,  I.  159,  160,  161. 
Serfs  of  Mt.  Jura,  I.  284. 
Sessac,  Viscount  of,  II.  124. 
Siboud,  Allemand,  Bishop  of  Gre- 
noble, I.  250,  255. 
Sibour,  M.,  I.  158. 
Sidonius,  or  Restitut,  I.  180. 
Silius  Italicus,  I.  179. 
Simon  de  Montfort,  I.  15. 
Social      conditions      in      Midland 

France  in  Dark  Ages,  I.  3,  4,  7,  8, 

II. 
Society,  Conditions  of ,  I.  12,  13,  14, 

15- 
Soldiers  of  fortune,  I.  13,  14. 
Spain,  I.  124 
Statue  of  Saint  John  the  Baptist, 

II.  110,  1 13. 
Statue  of  Madonna,  made  by  the 

Prophet  Saint  Jeremiah,  II.   16. 
Statues  above  portal  of  Cathedral 

of  Sarlat,  II.  142. 
"Stone  of  Couard,"  I.  334,  335. 
Style,  The  Cluniac,  I.  61. 
Style,  The  Gallo-Byzantine,  I.  73, 

74,  78,  87;  II.  127  128,  167. 


374 


Index 


Style,  The  Gothic,  I.  6 1,  62,  63,  66, 

70,  77,  91,  99,  108,  117,  264,  292, 

304;  II.  128.  137,  192. 
Style,    The    Pseudo-Classic,    I.    78, 

81,  82,  83,  84. 
Style,  The  Romanesque,  I.  61,  66, 

70,   73,   74,   146,    149,  202,    206, 

209;  II.  137,  188,  192. 


Tarentaise,  Archbishop  of,   I.   37, 

107,   112. 
Tarentaise,  Bishops  of,  I.  107. 
Tarentaise,  The,  I.  iii. 
Temple   of   Augustus    and    Livia, 

Vienne.  I.  88. 
Temple  of  Janus,  I.  335. 
Temple  of  the  Redeemer,  II.  187. 
Temple  of  Saint  John,  Poitiers,  II. 

45- 
Temple,  The    Ecclesia    Sancti    Jo- 

annis  Rotundi,  I.  162. 
Temple,    The    Protestant,    Die,    I. 

175- 
Terror,  The,  I.  192. 
Third  Estate,  The,  I.  12,  49,  300. 
Toulouse,  I.  25,  69. 
Toulouse,  Cathedral  of,  I.  65. 
"Tower,  Brown,"  I.   154,  157. 
"Tower,  Hunchback,"  I.  195. 
Tower  of  Cathedral  of  Le  Puy,   II. 

33<  49>  57- 
Tower  of  Cathedral  of  P^rigueux, 

II.  181,  184. 
Tower  of  Cathedral  of  Sarlat,  II. 

142. 
Tower  of  Cathedral  of  Valence,  I. 

202,   205. 
Tower  of  Notre-Dame,  Saintes,  II. 

312. 
Tower  of  Philip  the  Fair,   I.   220, 

237- 
Tower  of  Saint-Andrd,  Bordeaux, 

II-  328,  332. 
Tower  of  Saint-ApoUinaire,  I.  205, 

214. 
Tower    of    Saint-Barth^lemy,     La 

Rochelle,  I.  41. 
Tower   of   Saint-Eutrope,    Saintes, 

II.  3"- 
Tower,   Saint  Bernard's,   II.    141, 

143- 
Treasury,  The,  Moiltiers-en-Taren- 

taise,  I.  112. 
Tulle,   II.   97,    loi,    102,    105,    106, 

109,  no,  113,  115,  117,  138. 


Tulle,  Abbot  of,  II.  98. 
Tulle,  Bishops  of,  II.  105. 
Tulle,  Cathedral  of,  II.  73,  101,  102, 
1C5,  106,  109. 


U 


Urban  II,  Pope,  I.  192,  200,  370, 
384,  386,  388,  391,  392,  395;  II. 

14- 
Urban  VIII,  Pope,  II.  274,  275. 


Valence,  I.  200,  201,  202,  205,  210, 

213,  214,  215,  220. 
Valence,  Cathedral  of,  I.  200,  202, 

205,  206,  209,  213,  220;  II.  291. 
Valentinois,  Counts  of,  I.  172,  210. 
Vatican,  Prisoners  of,  I.  107. 
Velay,  the.  Introduction  of  worship 

of  Mary  into,  II.  5,  6,  7,  8. 
V^zelay,  I.  33,  342. 
Victor  Emmanuel,  I.  35. 
Vienna  Allobrogum,  I.  227,  229. 
Vienne,  I.  170,  171,  215,  220,  223, 

227,  228,  235,  236,  239,  247. 
Vienne,  Cathedral  of,  I.   215,  216, 

219,  241,  242,  243,  244,  247. 
Viollet-le-Duc,   I.    70,    74,   342 ;  II. 

31.  34,  37.  41,  49- 
Virgin  of  Le  Puy,  II.  15,  16. 
de  Vogii^,  I.  77,  342. 
Voltaire,  I.  287;  II.   193. 
Vosges.  The,  I.  300. 

w 

War,  Hundred  Years',  I.  14,  15,  29; 

II.   146,  341- 
Warens,  Madame  de,  I.  134. 
Wars  of  the  Prelates,  I.  172. 
Wars  of  Religion,  I.  14,  15,  29,  159, 

174;  II.   146,  193. 
White,  Dr.  Andrew  D.,  I.  57. 
William  of  Poitiers,  II.  265,  266. 


Yolande  de  France,  I.  36,  37. 
Young,  Arthur,  I.  61. 


Zacharius,  Pope.  I.  45. 


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